Hostility Awaits
by Astrapi Gnosis
Summary: Protoss Zealot Aesearia had no idea what to do when she suddenly appeared in a cube land, otherwise known as Minecraft. A/N: StarCraft and Minecraft are owned by their respective companies. I own nothing. If you're looking for good grammar and spelling, this is the place! Please review! PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE MY DAY! :)
1. Prologue

Aesearia, an experienced and skilled Zealot, stood on the surface of Shakuras, waiting, among her brethren. The dark sky swirled ominously above her; however, she paid it no attention. She was focused on what laid ahead. Battle.

The Protoss will soon regain, at last, what once was their home – Aiur awaits. She, along with all who stood in the uneasy silence, was to be Recalled to the surface of Aiur for battle; according to the last transmission, the Recall should be mere minutes away. In mere minutes, she would be teleported to her home, now ridden with scum and deprived of the glory it had once contained.

But she was confident. With the Khala as their fortitude, the Protoss were bound to reclaim their world. There was no question. No matter what the loss, Aiur would be theirs again. The Zerg were crumpled right now; the moment was optimal for strike. Furthermore, the Protoss were driven – she herself would like no more than to sink her blades in a few more Zerg.

"Commencing!" a voice called. Aesearia braced herself for whatever that was to come.

There was a flash of blue light, and Aesearia knew no more.

Aesearia woke up amongst what appeared to be trees. Her vision was blurred. A sudden burst of worry seized her; she looked down, and saw with satisfaction that her armor was still there. Being without her armor in a foreign situation was not her idea of fun.

But then she registered something else, once her eyes resumed full functionality. The trees appeared to be made out of cubes. She blinked furiously. Cubes. Cubes. They were still there. But how?

Arriving at the conclusion that the tree must be some type of alien plant, Aesearia stood up and approached the tree. She felt it with her hands. It felt smooth. Definitely alien.

She looked around. All of the trees were made out of cubes, it would appear. Her eyes diverted to the ground…

Even the ground was made of cubes. Aesearia recoiled in disgust. Then she heard something behind her.

With lightning fast reflexes that came from her Zealot training, she turned with her twin psi blades ablaze and pinned whatever made the noise to the ground. She held one blade to what seemed closest to the neck, and her brain finally registered what was before her.

The creature seemed to be made of cubes, too. The head was pure green with smaller squares of various shades of green scaling its skin. Empty eye sockets stared at her, and a sadistic frown did nothing to convince her of the creature's innocence. Furthermore, the creature had no arms; merely four legs that were also made of cubes.

The thing was definitely Zerg.

However, experience had taught Aesearia not to make hasty decisions. The creature may still be of sentient origins. As a result, Aesearia mentally yelled to the being:

"Who are you? Where is this? Who do you work for? I have weapons and am not reluctant in the least to use them!"

The creature merely cocked its head sideways and began to flash and emit hissing sounds. Aesearia had only a split second to register the absurdity of this action before she was blasted off her feet.

Once more, she fell unconscious.


	2. Chapter 1 - Companion

_**AESEARIA**_

Aesearia woke to a curious creature nudging her. Considering the fact that the creature did not explode or attack her upon sight, she decided that the creature was friendly. Once her eyes came into focus, she was able to examine the creature more carefully.

The creature was, as was everything on the planet, made of cubes and rectangular prisms. Something that can only be described as a snout protruded from the creature's face that held two eyes. The body was yet another rectangular prism, with five smaller ones protruding from odd locations on the body. Aesearia decided that four of those were legs and the last one was a tail; any other possibility was too horrendous to consider. To complete her study of the curious creature, Aesearia reached into the creature's mind and found:

A set of orders.

Aesearia had been expecting simple thoughts – after all, it seemed like an animal. A set of coded orders was definitely something she did not anticipate. What did this mean? Was the creature a robot?

Aesearia shook her head to clear it. She stood up, and only then did she remember about what caused her unconsciousness. The green, armless creatures were monsters that she would have to look out for in the future. Did they always detonate? Or was that something the monster she encountered did to make one last contribution to the Swarm?

Was the homicidal monstrosity part of the Swarm at all?

Aesearia performed what was the Protoss equivalent of a sigh.

"And who might you be?" Aesearia asked the creature at her foot. The creature gave a loud bark in return.

"Very well. I suppose your name is 'Arf', or something of the sort. I wonder if you'll follow me…" Aesearia looked up. The sun (yet another cube), or what seemed like it, was halfway through the sky. Night would soon fall. Aesearia decided at last to go east – after a few steps, the curious creature was at her heels.

"I see that you are quite content upon following me, my little friend," Aesearia mused, stroking the back of the "animal". "All for the better. I'm sure I can use some company in my quest for civilization."

And thus began a very long trek.

* * *

Night had already fallen. Aesearia was alert, her psi blades ready for combat. She had seen some very disturbing things on her way: green-skinned humanoid (there were Terrans here?) creatures, human skeletons, more of the green beasts (which she liked to call Banelings; at least it gave her the sense that she knew about _something_ in this world), and multi-eyed black insects the size of a behemoth. Aesearia had avoided engaging in combat with any of the Zerg; she was unfamiliar with the purpose of the majority of the beings. All she knew was that the greens things exploded. That was it.

Aesearia crept silently through the trees, Arf still by her side. She was thinking about the hill she saw earlier when she heard a loud moan behind her.

She whipped around and found herself face-to-face with one of the green-skinned humanoids, its arms outstretched. Aesearia brought her blade about with a swift movement, and the creature was left armless; another moment and the creature was headless. The rest of the body fell back and –

Disappeared with a puff of white smoke. All that was left behind was a piece of rotten meat and three green orbs.

This place would never cease to surprise her.

Aesearia heard footsteps behind her, mixture with the clanking of bones. She turned and saw that one the skeletons were looking at her. The thing seemed not to be attacking her, but…

Was that a bow in its hands?

Aesearia sensed a malicious intent…

Arf leaped from his position and landed himself on the skeleton. The human debris turned bright red for a split second (how odd!), jumped back, and shot at Arf. The animal seemed not to notice, though; a few more leaps and the skeleton, too, vanished in a puff of white smoke.

Wait.

It vanished.

In a puff of smoke.

Was the thing… Protoss? Did she just kill and witness the killing of her own brethren?

No. That was not possible. That could not be possible. She was Protoss. And that… thing… was definitely not Protoss.

Her psi blades deactivated and her attention turned back to Arf gnawing away at something on the ground. The skeleton's bones. She turned around to face the green humanoid's "remains". She approached the small green orbs first and attempted to grab them –

But saw that her hands passed right through. Was this some type of illusion? She tried again. And failed. Sighing, she focused on the rotten meat. It certainly seemed rotten. She tentatively used her mental abilities to raise the piece. She stared intently at the floating thing – in fact, so intently that she did not realize there was something stalking her until Arf barked.

Aesearia immediately dropped the meat and activated her psi blades. She whipped around and threw herself forward, ready to hold whatever the thing was at blade-point –

And found herself staring into a rifle hole.

"This place… You be Protoss or what?" a rough, distinctly human voice asked.


	3. Chapter 2 - Foooooooooooooooood!

Author's Note: Well, Chapter 3 is here! I know it's rather short, only a thousand words, but length will have to be a thing for me to work on. Anyways, thanks to all of you for the continued support and reviews (I just got another one! I'm positively jubilant!), and enjoy! Remember to favorite, follow, and review! Well, maybe not the favorite and follow part. But at least review! If you have any ideas for the story, I'm open! Next update will probably be next Saturday. Enjoy!

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would redirect your gun, please," Aesearia intoned to the Terran. "Unless, of course, you no longer find interest in the living world." The Terran gave a blunt grunt at this.

"Look, pal, I've got a gun in your face, so I don't think you're in much position to threaten me. Now let me ask again: are you Protoss or are you native to this planet?"

Aesearia, out of pride, immediately turned herself to pure energy and Charged behind the Terran. Her psi blades were up within the blink of an eye and pressed against the (nearly non-existent) neck of the Terran Marine suit.

"You gun is no longer 'in my face', and my psi blade is now in yours. Now, before you agitate me further, _lower your gun_."

The Terran took quite a while assessing the situation, and finally seemed to have arrived at the conclusion that the fight was lost. He lowered his gun with much reluctance. Aesearia, however, did not lower her psi blade.

"Now, now," the Terran said. "I've lowered my weapon. I guess you're about to do the same?"

"To lower my weapon _willingly_ would be a great display of trust, you realize. I don't trust you in the slightest."

"Well, considering that we seem to be the only sentient beings around here, I don't think we should antagonize each other."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Aesearia sniffed. Despite this, she still lowered her blades.

"Thanks," the Terran grunted.

"Do you have any shelter?" Aesearia asked bluntly once the Terran sat down (noisily) at the foot of a tree.

"No. If I had shelter, don't you think I would be _in_ it at night? I've seen a damn load of caves, but I ain't too eager to get in one of _those_."

"Why?"

The Terran finally opened up his visor and scratched his chin absentmindedly. His face, dotted with two brilliantly green eyes, was scarred badly on the left cheek. He barely had any hair, and his chin jutted out slightly defiantly.

"Well, you see, these caves, as far as I can tell, go down rather far. Very dark. And these… _things_… come out of the dark. Skeletons. And these things close to Banelings. Very deadly. Speaking of which, you don't think there are Zerg here, do you?"

"I'm not sure," Aesearia said slowly, "but that is a possibility never to be ruled out. I know the creatures of which you speak. Are there any smaller caves around here? I'm not too terribly thrilled by the idea of staying out in the middle of the night in an unknown, very hostile world."

"Heh," the Terran chuckled. "Never thought I'd hear that from a Protoss. You are Protoss, right?" Seeing Aesearia's nod of confirmation, he added: "By the way, name's Ethan. Ethan Carter."

"And my name is Aesearia."

"I would say that I'm pleased to meet you, but I'm not sure that's true."

"Fret not. That feeling is mutual."

* * *

Aesearia, Arf, and Ethan travelled in a random direction until sunrise, passing the time by discussing the similarities between Arf and a Terran animal called "dog". They would not have stopped either, had Ethan not complained loudly and obnoxiously about the need for food.

"I need food," he would say over and over again, much to Aesearia's annoyance. "All humans do. You're Protoss. You wouldn't understand that. Humans can't survive without food."

And so every minute or so, he would repeat some variation of this to Aesearia. It finally got to her after a while.

"Well, if you did not waste so much energy in complaining, perhaps you would not be so famished yet!" she yelled. "Conserve your energy!"

"Well, I'm bloody starvin'! I need to eat something!"

"And what exactly do you plan to eat? Exactly! I've not the remotest idea as to what are and what aren't poisonous around here, so if you'd like to try, by all means, proceed!"

Which shut Ethan up.

They continued to travel monotonously until Ethan saw a desert.

"Woah!" Ethan yelled. "Desert? But over here it's still grass!"

Aesearia, for her part, merely looked on somewhat curiously. The sudden climate change wasn't the most alarming thing she ever discovered on the planet. In all likelihood, even the curious cube structure of everything would pale in comparison to what is to come.

"Cow!" Ethan yelled for what seemed like the millionth time. The sincerity in his voice convinced Aesearia to look over, though.

Ethan was screaming at yet another cube animal, mostly brown. Ethan was firing at the animal (did he call it "cow"?), while Arf was assaulting it with his ("its" or "his"?) bare teeth. The poor animal died in about a second, and it dropped something. More than intrigued, Aesearia walked over to observe more closely.

Ethan picked up a raw-looking thing from the ground. Eyeing it hungrily, he tore off a piece and ate it whole, throwing the other half to Arf, who subsequently tackled the "meat".

"Has it not crossed your mind that the meat may be poisoned?" Aesearia chastised.

"Well," Ethan said after swallowing, "that's easy for you to say. You don't need to eat. When humans are hungry, we'll eat anything."

"_Anything_?" Aesearia asked darkly. Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Well, don't know about you, but I need to find myself another one of those animals. I'm far from satisfied." With that, Ethan tore off into the desert with Arf at his heels.

Aesearia heaved a great mental sigh.

_Of all creatures I could have met, why, WHY, _WHY _a Terran?_


	4. Chapter 3 - Shelter

Author's Note: Well, this update was much faster than I thought! The bad news is, the chapter is EXTREMELY short. I hope that you will forgive me! Review and enjoy! I'm open to ideas! :D Next update should be next Saturday. Or even before that. *Smirk*

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

Aesearia ran after the Terran, seeing no alternative. After blindly running around for a while, she spotted the Terran standing on top of a sand dune with his back turned to her. Naturally, Aesearia approached Ethan.

"Ethan - " Aesearia began.

"Loooooooook!" Ethan interrupted, whispering in awe, pointing an outstretched finger at something in the distance. Aesearia, curious, followed his fingers.

If she had a jaw, it would have dropped.

A village was standing in the distance. There were several small houses made of wood (how primitive!), and next to them were several rows of crops. A tall building made of stone stood out from the rest, probably a watch tower.

There were things moving about.

_Things+Moving=…_

_ Think… Think…_

_ Creatures?!_

Aesearia was beyond shocked. She turned to look at the Terran beside her, and saw that he was ready to tear off again. Valuing caution above curiosity, Aesearia raised her right arm across his chest to impede movement.

"Let's do this cautiously, please. Follow me."

Aesearia walked calmly towards the village. Ethan, grunting something incomprehensible under his breath, followed reluctantly, Arf at his heels.

Aesearia would have held her breath, had that been possible for a Protoss. As she closely approached the villagers who turned to gaze at her, she raised both of her arms in a universal sign of non-aggression. Ethan, close behind, did the same, propping his gun against his leg.

"We come in peace. We mean you no harm. We were stranded here, and we do not know where we are. Can you aid us?"

The villagers, robed humanoids with large noses and bald heads, simply stared at her.

It was a _very_ awkward moment.

"Hello?" Aesearia asked uncertainly.

The villagers, losing interest, walked away in their pointless, random fashion. Aesearia, unwilling to give up, reached into the mind of a villager and saw –

Again those coded orders.

Were there any sentient natives at all?

Aesearia, seeing their lack of interest, proceeded to explore the village. After walking around for a bit, she and Ethan found a large wooden house with a door and went inside, Arf following them faithfully.

"Nice…" Ethan muttered, looking around the humble house.

The house was L-shaped, a table and two chairs in one of the corners. Touching the ceiling were several rows of bookshelves (even Aesearia could tell), and there was a wooden table with empty squares sitting in a corner. Window panes allowed light to enter the house, and for the first time, Aesearia began to appreciate the beauty of this world.

A loud thump.

Aesearia spun around, her psi blades up within a second. She raised her arm, ready to strike –

"Hey! Man! Or woman! Whatever! Calm down!" Ethan yelled quickly, throwing his hands up in the air. "I ain't doin' nothin'! I tried to sit, but this armor's too big! I'm sorry!"

Aesearia, psi blades disappearing as she collapsed onto the floor, merely sighed.

"I am sorry for startling you. My reflexes… This planet has kept me on edge." Getting back up, she added: "Well, you may as well as make yourself at home. It seems like we have finally found a place to live."

Ethan merely chuckled.

* * *

The next couple of days passed monotonously, with Aesearia staying in the house and meditating and Ethan going out to hunt for food. They learned that, apparently, the villagers were quite content with living with them, and did not show any sign of anger towards their uninvited guest.

Aesearia was beginning to think that she would be forced to stay here until her death, which would be a long time away.

Until another Terran showed up.


	5. Chapter 4 - This Guy's Nuts

Author's Note: Well, I'm very much underestimating myself. An update already! On a Monday! Well, looks like you readers can expect fast updates from _this_ story. Yes, I know they're a bit short, this particular chapter placing at only about 950 words, but my point. :P Again, I'm open to ideas (especially about crafting; you'll know what I mean in a moment), please review, and other than that, enjoy this concoction of awesomeness (I hope)! :D I will see you all later.

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

Aesearia was meditating as usual, Ethan and Arf out hunting. Days of meditation told her that trying to sense minds from afar would be nearly impossible on this planet, due to a very peculiar "fog" in the Khala present on this planet. As a result, she had no means of communicating with other sentient beings unless they were close to her. And so her mind relaxed as it usually did during meditation, until a disturbance ripped across the peaceful waters of her mind.

Her eyes were open. She did not remember opening them, but they were open. How odd. Then she heard something.

Doors opening. A voice.

That was not Ethan.

She stood up and peered outside the window. The sun shined bright, casting a shadow from the house that made it hard to see. Squinting to see better, she focused her gaze on the figure standing before a house. It was hard to tell whether or not it was a villager from the back, but she was willing to bet her fingers (an arm would be too much) that it wasn't. Turning on her psi blades, she quietly crept out of the house (taking care _not_ to let the door creak) and stealthily approached the figure, taking care to stay in the shadows.

The figure, she could see, was another Terran. He stood before a villager in green robes, brows furrowed in thought, and muttering under his breath. He seemed not to see her at all. Aesearia caught something about a rip and an emerald (how peculiar!).

Deciding that questions should come _after_ apprehension, she leaped from the shadows and tackled the figure to the floor, holding her blades to his (she could see that now) throat, quickly breaking him from his trance. He had brilliant blue eyes covered by glasses, short blond hair, and a studious look about him. The Terran (he was without a suit, curiously) shook his head quickly, as if to clear it, and registered what held him down.

Before Aesearia can even begin the customary arrest speech, the Terran screamed.

And what a bloodcurdling, earsplitting (only she didn't have ears) scream it was.

In retrospect, her lack of human facial features may have contributed to that.

"Shut up!" she screamed over the commotion. "Shut up or I'll have to kill you! That is a threat!"

The Terran immediately stopped, though still eyeing her fearfully.

"Who do you work for?"

The Terran still stared at her with that fearful gaze. Aesearia shook him violently.

"WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?!"

The Terran finally broke.

"Alright! Alright! I work for Mojang! Please don't abduct me and suck out my brain!"

It was Aesearia's turn to be baffled.

"What's 'Mojang'?"

"Well…" he trailed off, gathering his thoughts. "You see, it's a company from Earth that - "

"Earth? The Terran planet? You came from the human planet?"

Unsure once again, the Terran replied: "Yes…?"

"How did you get here?"

"Well, I was working on the game engine, and I sort of dozed off… I thought it was a dream, but judging by the ferocity with which I pinched myself, it's not."

"Do you know where we are?"

"Why, we're in Minecraft, of course!"

* * *

"A game?!" Ethan exclaimed incredulously. "You're telling me that this is a game?!"

"Calm yourself," Daniel, the Mojang employee, said impatiently. "It was a long time ago. We attempted to make the game more realistic by actually creating a simulation. Obviously, that backfired. One of the supposed 'bosses', Herobrine, went rogue and crashed the entire system. I can't believe we're still even here. I would have assumed that he would kill us all on sight. Under any case, the original crafting rules and such still apply. You two obviously have no knowledge of this, and thus would not be able to take advantage of this. Knowing how to craft will greatly increase your chances of survival in this world. Luckily for you, there is already a crafting bench in this room - " at this, he gestured the wooden table with empty squares sitting in a corner " – so I can demonstrate immediately." He walked up to the "bench" and, after taking out a formidable-looking stick and two pieces of something metallic, went into his "trance" again.

Ethan gave Aesearia a questioning look, at the same time using his hand to perform a "loop-around-the-head-'I-think-this-guy's-crazy'" gesture.

Aesearia merely shrugged. While she did not believe a single word this Daniel's said, she's seen weirder stuff.

In a few moments, Daniel broke out of his trance with something in his hand. Aesearia could swear that his hands were empty the moment before.

"Behold!" Daniel gloated, holding up a rather shiny sword (Aesearia would find that, upon recalling from her memory, the sword was actually made of cubes. As well. How could she not have guessed.). Aesearia mentally scoffed, knowing that her psi blades could probably cut that pathetic sword in half. _Ah well_, she thought. _Might as well as let the Terran have a bit of pride_.

"How the hell did you do that?" Ethan asked disbelievingly, almost squinting at the sword.

"This," Daniel said in a lecturing voice, "is crafting.

"What you do, essentially, is you take the items needed, hold the crafting recipe desired in your mind, and then concentrate a powerful _desire_ into creating whatever it is you wish. If everything works out right, you get what you want. Now, you'll need to remember quite a bit of recipes, but I'll teach that to - "

"What the hell are recipes?"

"Well, they're like formulas for how to make something. Like an equation," Daniel replied patiently. "Now, the most useful ones are as such…"


	6. Chapter 5 - HOLY MOTHER OF NOTCH!

Author's Notes: TOLD YOU I WASN'T DEAD! HA! I'M STILL ALIVE! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Seriously, though, here's the promised update that's 1300 words long. I know, not a lot, but still. It's an update! As always, please enjoy, and please review. I would estimate the next update to be next Saturday, but I think y'all know to expect before that. :D ENJOY!

* * *

_**AESEARIA**_

It's already been two days since the mysterious Earthling (well, isn't _that_ name ironic) has shown up. As it appeared, he actually taught them useful things. For one thing, Aesearia now knew that the green creatures with the tendency to blow up were not Zerg, and were actually called "creepers". On the other hand, they discovered that Aesearia and Ethan had no talent for crafting and couldn't open their "inventory" either, even though it appeared they could wield the tools and such. As a result, all crafting would have to be done by Daniel.

Daniel also taught them about cave systems that seemed to run beneath the surface of the planet (Aesearia was still having troubles accepting the world as a _video game_). To make things more realistic, they even planned a trip down one of these systems that day ("Besides, I'm running out of iron. If we can find any diamonds, all the better.").

Ethan was predictably loading himself and Daniel with food. As Aesearia had already executed photosynthesis earlier in the day, she would be set in that aspect. Although Daniel had insisted that Ethan and Aesearia bring swords, he was politely denied. As a result, he had enough spare iron to make armor for himself. Aesearia thought he said something about "crafting a chestplate".

They were about to set out the door when Daniel stopped them both.

"Wait, let me give you something," he said, rummaging through a chest he made (somehow, Ethan and Aesearia simply couldn't seem to access it). "You'll need pickaxes and torches. Here," he said, pressing an iron pickaxe to Ethan and a torch to Aesearia. "I would give you each one of each, but it seems you can only handle one item at a time. You two will have to stick together."

"Wait, what?" Aesearia cried, outraged. "'We'll _have_ to stick together'? I thought we were all staying close! Have you any idea how dangerous it is to wander around alone in a foreign landscape? We're all sticking together!"

"But it's easier to find ores if we split up as much as possible! That's basic Minecraft knowledge!"

"And it's easier to get yourself killed," Aesearia replied coldly. "We're moving out together."

Daniel opened his mouth again, as if to continue to protest, but seemed to thought better of it and closed his mouth.

And thus they were off.

* * *

They, unfortunately, had quite a bit of trouble looking for caves. They spent nearly the entire day looking around in vain, frustration mounting until Daniel threatened to "dig straight down". At that point, though, Arf barked loudly from some distance away and Ethan yelled: "Found it! Big, dark cave!"

The timing couldn't have been better.

The cave entrance was small, allowing only one person to fit through at a time. Fortunately, the inside seemed to be bigger and, after Aesearia took out her torch for light, lead to another bigger cave system.

"Well," Daniel said, clapping his hands together, his voice eerily echoing off the ancient walls of the cave, "it appears as if we have ourselves a nice little (_little?!_) cave system! Now, since Aesearia insists that we stick together, why don't we move as a whole? This way!"

And he stormed off.

Reluctantly, Ethan and Aesearia followed him, Arf lingering behind even longer than Ethan, whining, though he (it?) eventually followed anyway.

They walked through a wide opening into what appeared to be a large tunnel sloping downwards. Aesearia would have estimated it to be around thirty meters tall, had she known better. This world (_not _a video game!) had surprised her in worse ways.

"Iron!" Daniel yelled someplace ahead, excitedly pointing at something. It was too dark for Aesearia to see. Daniel seemed to have produced a torch from somewhere, his "_inventory_" no doubt, and placed it on the wall (Aesearia could never get the torch to stick to anything), allowing her to see the peach-colored metal ore.

Apparently, it was nothing different from normal stone, except for the grains of peach peppered across its surface. That was probably the iron.

Daniel quickly took out a pickaxe (_again_ from his inventory, no doubt) and began to mine the ore. Eventually, he exhausted the particular vein and backed out of the hole he created.

"That was eight iron!" he yelled excitedly. "Spendid!"

Aesearia performed what was the Protoss equivalent of an eye-roll.

"Where to now?" Aesearia asked impatiently, moving forward. "There must be _something_ worthwhile down - "

"Shh!" Ethan interrupted, putting a finger to his mouth. "You hear that?" he whispered.

Immediate silence filled the cave. Aesearia strained herself, listening for whatever Ethan seemed to be hearing. She was about to announce Ethan lunatic when she heard it at last.

A loud moan echoing creepily through the tunnel.

"Over there!" Aesearia said, pointing to the hole that Daniel dug out. Daniel immediately began to mine again. A tense, anxious silence filled the air, interrupted only by the occasional melancholic moan.

"OH MY HOLY MOTHER OF NOTCH!"

Alarmed, Aesearia readied her psi blades and made her way to Daniel. (Un)Fortunately (she couldn't quite decide which), Daniel was unharmed and only somewhat shaken. Aesearia looked through the hole he made a saw –

A cobblestone wall covered with moss.

"I don't see what the proble – IN THE NAME OF ADUN!"

A cube face, green and rotten with two empty holes for eyes, appeared from nowhere and blocked her line of sight. Instinctively, Aesearia threw the creature back with her psionic abilities. The zombie (Aesearia was pretty sure it was that) hit the wall and turned bright red for a second.

"That means the zombie just took damage," Daniel explained.

"What the hell are you lookin' – oh. A zombie. Move aside, I'll shoot him dow - "

"Useless," Daniel sighed, pushing Ethan back. "They'll keep spawning. There's a spawner at the center of the room. You see that?" he asked, pointing at a small spark of fire in the center of the room.

Aesearia would have missed it, had Daniel not pointed it out. It was a minuscule fire, sparkling in the center of the room. Squinting her eyes, she saw that it came from what looked like a cage.

"Well," Daniel said, readying his pickaxe once more, "when I mine the last piece of stone, we all charge in and take them all out. Ethan, try not to kill us, please." Ethan grunted nonchalantly.

Daniel began to mine. Aesearia never thought eternity could be so short; that seemed like the amount of time it took to mine the stone. Zombies immediately began to pour out of the hole.

"Back off!" Daniel yelled to Aesearia and Ethan. "We need to get to an open area!"

"Needless!" Aesearia yelled back. These zombies were slow compared to zerglings, and thus were much easier kills. She Charged with her blades ablaze into the swarm of zombies, slicing her way through the crowd. If any zombie actually managed to attack her, it was blocked by her plasma shields. Puffs of smoke went up all around her, engulfing her in a cloud of death.

"OPEN FIRE!" Ethan yelled from somewhere. Aesearia heard rounds of bullets emptying out into the crowd of zombie; no use. There was too much. They would overwhelm her. She sunk her blades into what seemed like the millionth zombie, bringing her hand around her in a graceful arc to take care of the zombie moaning behind her. She felt one grab her shoulder. Had her plasma shields expired already? She stabbed the zombie in the chest and kicked it backwards, but at least a dozen more took its place.

"There's too much!" she heard Daniel yell. It came from somewhere far, far away. Where was she? She blindly sunk her blade into something. Was this Death?

No. In one last defiant attempt to stay alive, Aesearia unleashed what little psionic energy she had left in a wave of (hopefully) devastating psionic storm. She faintly saw the zombies fly away from her, turning bright red, and heard a muffled sound from someplace afar.

"Where's Aesearia?"

Her miniature psionic storm had done its job. More zombies would doubtlessly come, but she couldn't… hold…

Unconsciousness once more overtook her.


	7. Chapter 6 - Something overt

Author's Note: Hello, my friends! After a terribly long wait, your story is up once more! I'm really, _really_ sorry about the wait. I have some lame excuses, but I won't state them for now, because they are completely pathetic. Anyway, enjoy! Leave a review! Have fun! XD Next chapter _SHOULD_ be up by next Saturday. I swear, I REALLY will try to keep that promise. See ya! :D

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

Aesearia wasn't aware of opening her eyes. They were open and receiving by the time she came about. She perceived that she was in a floating cloud of light blue, electricity occasionally discharging randomly across the clouds. She marveled at the beauty for a while, forgetting her name, who she was, the conflict against the Zerg, and all else. All that mattered was that she was in paradise. Bliss. Eternal bliss.

(It would not occur to her until later what a terrifying thought that was)

It seemed that a long while had passed, perhaps eternity, before Aesearia realized that if she could see and think, chances are, she had a body. She thought of raising her arm and, lo and behold, her arm rose before her. She looked down to her own body. She was dressed in a brown robe, humble yet beautiful.

It was at that point that she remembered everything.

Panic overwhelmed her.

_Where am I? Am I dead? Where is my armor?_

Then:

_"Aesearia. I've been expecting you."_

* * *

It was a disembodied voice, neither male nor female. It seemed to have come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

_"Aesearia. I've been expecting you."_

_ Who are you? Where am I? Am I dead?_

Aesearia thought the voice chuckled.

_"No, you are not dead. You are within your own mind – you will return to your friends shortly. As for me – shall we say that I am the Good, mysterious hand behind the game unto which you had been unwillingly thrust? For now, you may call me Voice."_

There was something very, _very_ overt about that statement. Aesearia couldn't quite place her finger on it, though, as it appeared that Aesearia was having trouble thinking on a complex level. She decided to ignore it and carry on.

_Why am I here?_

Again that chuckle and that sense of amusement.

_"Why, it would defeat the purpose of being mysterious if I told you. Now, to be serious._

_ You have been thrust into this foreign world by chance, it would appear to you. Whether this is true, I will not tell you. What I will say, though, is that your survival amazes me. The human, Daniel, he has told you of this world, I presume? Yes, but he did not divulge all of the truth. See, a long time ago, when humans attempted to make this game in reality, they brought forth into the game a new entity, a new "boss": Herobrine, who has been the things of legend already. Of his history I will not elaborate – that would take much of our precious time. Once he was programmed into the system with a complex artificial intelligence, he began to perceive a sense of self and, not long afterwards, a need to be more than a part of a game. Naturally, everything went wrong and Herobrine crashed the entire system, taking over worlds of Minecraft from all over the planet Earth. Given that he is able to process all that information, I leave it up to you to process how powerful his intellect is. Anyway, he took over all the worlds of Minecraft and declared himself "king of the land". In short, he is able to control all aspects of the game, spawn whatever he pleases, and he can see everything, everywhere, any time of the day. You can't hide from him. However, he still has his weaknesses. First of all, he has no social experience. Being dangerously intelligent is not always the same thing as being dangerously cunning. Second, he is emotionally fragile, given that - "_

_ Wait… If he can control everything, why hasn't he killed us already? Is there something he wants from us?_

_ "…This, I do not know, or will not tell. As for whether or not there is something he wants from you… That is an interesting idea. Perhaps - "_

Aesearia suddenly perceived that the being was tense. What had happened?

_"Quickly, Protoss, go! Our time is up, until next time - "_

* * *

Aesearia jerked awake. If she were human, she would have been panting. She sat up straight, looking wildly around her, her nerve cords clicking behind her.

"Woah, dude. Settle down. You're fine, it's just us, me an' Daniel. That was some kickass psionic kungfu you just did there." Ethan offered Aesearia a hand, pulling her up out of her sitting position. "Under any case, we're glad to see you're not dead. Furthermore, Daniel here destroyed the spawner, so we should be good to go. Daniel checked out the chest over there, got some diamonds, iron, saddles, and some purple, shiny books." He threw Daniel a smug glance.

"They're not shiny, purply books!" he exploded. "They're called enchanted books! You can use them to enchant your tools and weapons and you're just humoring me, aren't you?" Realization dawned on his face as Ethan cracked up, laughing harder than he ever had in his life.

"Well, you two seem to be having a lot of fun," Aesearia said dryly (which somehow made Ethan laugh even _harder_). "Is there anything else we need to do here? Or do we spend the rest of the time with me saving your lives?"

"You didn't save our lives! I had everything under control! Dang, I'd even bet I killed more zombies than you - "

* * *

Aesearia considered telling them about her vision, but decided that it could wait. Besides, the vision puzzled even her. Who was the Voice? Was it Herobrine himself, playing some cruel game with them? And if the Voice was telling the truth, could this Herobrine possibly be able to teleport her back to Aiur? Aesearia decided that she would have to visit this Herobrine eventually.

For now, though, their underground journey had led them to even more caves. The majority of the time was spent monotonously as Daniel mined out the ores and Aesearia and Ethan stood guard. Only the occasional violence with monsters (mobs?) broke the boring silence. They progressed deeper and deeper into the earth (Minecraftia?!), encountering absolutely nothing of interest, except for a bat stuck in stone. To pass the time, they talked about what they would do after the wars, assuming they could even get out of the gaming world. Daniel, who knew a little about the happenings in the Korpulu Sector, would join in the conversation from time to time.

"When I get out of this war, I'm gonna find myself a nice little stretch of land, find my love, and live a happy farmer's life out on some faraway planet. Hopefully those bloody Zerg will all be dead by then. Us and the Protoss should be able to live peacefully together, once the Zerg are gone. If we go to war again, I don't think I'd live to see the end."

"Farming? I don't think that's very exciting," Daniel interjected while digging out a huge hole/tunnel. "Why don't you consider doing computer science? That's very interesting, I think…"

"Humans," Aesearia sighed, "you each will find interests in different subjects. It is pointless and time-consuming to argue of it. Now, Daniel, is there any limit to how far we can diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iii AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH - "

Aesearia fell with a heavy clunk on rough, stone floor. Darkness engulfed her, rendering her blind. Mentally sighing at her lack of good luck, she felt her way up. Her hands grasped about blindly, until they came upon –

Wood. Wood…

"Boys," she called up towards the tiny spark of light from whence she fell, "I think we have a problem…"


	8. Chapter 7 - Mineshaft

Author's Note: I'm really, really sorry about the wait. Writer's block, all that stuff. No excuse, really. Kill me. KILL ME, DUMBLEDORE!

Anyway, the chapter is (finally) up. Read, enjoy, subscribe, comment, and like! Oh, wait, this isn't YouTube. Crap.

Whatevers.

Next chapter should be up soon (Where on earth have I heard _that_ one before?!). Also, the next chapter will include LOTS of StarCraft action; PvZ, all that good stuff. I look forward to writing it!

Review, please! :D

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

"Boys," she called up towards the tiny spark of light from whence she fell, "I think we have a problem…"

"You okay down there?" Daniel's concerned voice floated down to her.

"Fine. It's only that there appears to be wood down here. Tell me, does wood grow naturally underground? I'm quite certain these columns aren't natural."

"Wait, wood?" Daniel's voice suddenly became tense. "Ethan, can you make the jump? We're going down."

Ethan grunted somewhere above, and a few moments later, a hulking set of Terran armor fell before Aesearia. With much clanking and struggling, the suit of armor made it up standing, but a split second after it stood up, another body, this time without armor, crashed through the air and landed on the Marine, taking them both to the ground again. It was a miracle they both weren't dead, but again, physics in this world might be different.

"Dammit…" Ethan muttered as he pushed himself up, gingerly rubbing the back of his helmet (Terrans were _so_ weird).

Then, Arf fell down and landed on his helmet, which led to much cursing.

"Well," Daniel said, once he was up and about once more, "this is an abandoned mineshaft. Those are underground naturally generating structure found within the game. They usually contain cave spiders, which are small, agile, and poisonous, so watch your step. If you're lucky enough, there'd be a tremendous amount of loot in here. Let's find out. Watch out, though, as it's quite easy to get lost."

With that, the three of them veered off into one of the deep, dark hallways lined with wood.

The initial trek turned out to be pretty harmless, despite what Daniel had said. True, Aesearia heard ominous clattering of fangs from time to time, but nothing jumped at her from the shadows, and so she assumed that she was safe.

The hallway they chose ended in a small, enclosed area ridden with overlapping white lines ("They're called cobwebs, Aesearia."). There was a small chest in the center, ominously lonely amongst all the spider-webs. One lone torch was placed directly in front of the chest.

"Excellent," Daniel said, practically drooling over the prospect of looting a chest, "maybe we'll get something worthwhile. Let's see…" Daniel walked one step into the room, aiming for the chest.

Then chaos reigned.

At least a dozen small, blue spiders leapt from the unseen corners of the room, attacking Daniel. Daniel had but a second to react, but made the right choice by swerving backwards. All the spiders missed him and landed in a pile, which dazed them a bit; but not for long. Daniel, wide-eyed with surprise, turned, panicked, and ran.

"Screw the chest!" he yelled. "We got to get outta here!"

Arf followed immediately, barking in alarm. Ethan took a quick glance at the spiders, decided that he could do without spiders in his life, and ran after Daniel, somehow still managing to look not-too-panicked. Aesearia followed suit.

After a bit of running, Aesearia turned around and saw that the spiders were actually gaining on them, a fact that seemed to be lost on both of the Terrans. Sighing to herself about human stupidity once more, she turned around and casted a small psionic storm in the middle of the hallway. As she did this, she felt a sick feeling somewhere in her abdomen.

_Must be the effort it took to cast the storm,_ she thought grimly. _Well, at least that will keep them at bay for now. More will come, though._

Clutching her stomach, Aesearia ran after the two Terrans. Eventually, she reached the place where she fell through the hole. Thankfully, the humans had dug a staircase in the cave wall to let her up and were standing above, waiting for her.

"Hurry," Ethan yelled. "We've got to move! They'll come soon!"

"Understood," Aesearia said grimly.

Once Aesearia made it up, Daniel took out a small cube of stone (_how _does that inventory work?) and sealed off the entrance. Then they all stood there for a moment, humans and dogs catching their breaths, Protoss clutching their stomachs.

"So," Daniel panted, breaking the silence, "that should hold them off."

A block of stone on the ground popped out of its place.

Daniel looked like he was about to cry, with that mixture of shock, anger, and confusion on his face.

"Or not," he frowned eventually. "RUN!"

Taking the cue, all four of them, dog included, dashed faster than the wind out of the tunnel they had dug. After running forever, they reached the giant downwards-sloping tunnel that they encountered earlier. Daniel's head swerved left to right, looking for an exit. Aesearia turned her head around at the sound of pincers clicking and saw that the spiders were coming.

"Quickly!" she shouted, gripping Daniel's arm.

"There!" Daniel screamed, pointing at a tiny speck of light.

The four of them took off simultaneously again.

Aesearia's legs were beginning to ache from all the running, which was not a good sign. The extensive training required for all Zealots ensured that a mere small jog could not possibly tire a Zealot. How long had they run?

They finally reached the atrium they had come across at the beginning of their cave exploration. Aesearia wanted only to fall down and die, but she forced herself to keep going. She could tell the two Terrans were doing the same as well, though Arf didn't look terribly tired.

_For Aiur,_ she kept on telling herself. _For that brighter tomorrow for all of Protoss. For our unification. For Aiur!_

Daniel and Ethan had already climbed up the small, narrow "staircase" leading to the surface. Arf stayed behind, whimpering at Aesearia, his black, square eyes, full of emotion, peering pleadingly at her.

Wait. That's not right. Arf didn't have any feelings. He was a robot! Or a program! He's supposedly part of a game! How does that work?!

"_Go!_" Aesearia yelled, pushing Arf up the staircase. Sensing the urgency in her voice, Arf gave one last sad look at Aesearia and bolted up the stairs (Hang on! He can't sense urgency! Or look sad! What is this nonsense?!). Aesearia took one look behind her, saw the dark blue sea of the terribly Zerg-like spiders, and dashed up after her companions.

She kept her eyes on the sunlight, willing herself to go faster. Her legs were going numb. How far had she run? She never felt this exhausted in battle. Well, maybe there were a few times, but running?! She was a Zealot! An experienced one, at that!

The spot of sunlight grew a tad brighter, a tad larger. But it still seemed so far away! What was happening?! She couldn't seem to reach it! It was almost like an elusive dream; the more you clung onto it, the faster it slipped through your fingers. Each time Aesearia felt like she was about to escape, the spot of light retreated, taunting her, luring her to her untimely death…

But no! Suddenly, the spot of light grew much brighter, much bigger, outshining and outsizing the light of Aiur itself. It sped towards her, and, feeling only slightly taken aback at the sudden change (she couldn't think quite straight), Aesearia embraced the light, falling into the comfort of oblivion, allowing the brightness to engulf her, to cradle her, to seize her painful struggle, to calm her immature mind, to lay her to rest.

Once more, the darkness (how ironic!) of unconsciousness claimed her.

(She had already lost count. She didn't even want to know how many times she'd fallen unconscious in this world already.)


	9. Chapter 8 - Protoss vs Zerg

Author's Notes: YEAH! Two chapters in one day! Beat that! I'm just making up for the severe lack of chapters (awesomeness) (lol) lately. Anyway, as promised, this chapter will be a PvZ minor battle. Told from first-person. Well, sort of. I mean, it is technically a third-person story, but you know what I mean. Ya know what I mean, ya? Ya? Kay. Kool. Pardon the terribleness.

Anyway! Read, enjoy, review, and follow! Thanks for all those reviews out there, leviathantamer, dalintyman (By the way, love the jokes on your profile; anti-racism!)! Thanks for the continued support! Hope you guys like this chapter! Review! Don't forget to subscribe! Oh, wait, _not_ YouTube...

*Scratches chin thoughtfully*

I should just shut up, shouldn't I?

Oh wait! One more thing! Next chapter should be out tomorrow, also a StarCraft battle. If you guys don't want that, post a review, I will delete the chapter and post it the way you like. Hope you enjoy! PEACE!

Forgot something again. *Face-palm like a Hellion* Dalintyman, you asked for Zerg! I'll give you some soon, once we return to Minecraft. There WILL be infested Terrans. Look out! You'll get the virus!

I should shut up.

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

The telltale blue shimmer in the air that foretold the uncloaking of a unit.

Aesearia materialized from thin air, the blue aura still undying around her, and crouched in cover behind a half-destroyed concrete wall, the twin suns throwing her shadow on the ground. Screeches of Zerg and Terran alike filled the air, complimented by the explosions created by tanks and the sound of needle spines whizzing by. Knowing that she had perhaps only a few moments to spare, she pressed the button closest to her neck, and began talking, her holographic copy blazing to life on a Carrier some miles away, copying her exact moves.

"Executor, this is Praetor Aesearia. We have destroyed the Zerg cluster in sector H-… H-68, and have advanced to a chokepoint. We are now in sector H-77. Several spine crawlers and hydralisks are guarding this area, and my Cohort will not be enough to take them all down. Zerg reinforcements are flooding the area. I will note, however, that the Zerg are clumped up, and that one area of effect attack will take them all out. I request Siege Tank reinforcements. Repeat, I request Siege Tank reinforcements."

She waited for a reply, several more needle spines whizzing by in the meantime. At last, a holographic image came to life before her – the head of the Executor herself.

"I have received your message," said the head of Selendis. "Reinforcements will be on the way, but I'm afraid you'll have to hold your own until it arrives."

"We cannot warp it in?" Aesearia asked with surprise.

"Well… Let's just say that it's too large to be warped in. It's the new, state-of-the-art Protoss siege ship."

"I see."

Sometimes, when your superior tells you that some things are best left undescribed, it's a good idea to listen.

The holographic Selendis before Aesearia blinked out of existence, leaving her to contend with the terrors of the Zerg once more. Mentally cursing, Aesearia yelled to her warriors:

"Hold your ground, brethren! Reinforcements are on the way! Zealots, stay behind cover! Dragoons and Immortals, stay behind cover and fire when you can!"

"As you will!" some Zealots shouted in unison. Others were too focused on staying alive.

The battle was taking place between two humongous Terran buildings towering over everything, both of which were ruined beyond repair. Roofs were torn off by the Zerg, windows smashed. The occasional gust of wind blew dust and dirt all over the barren and debris-ridden landscape, blocking visibility. However, the Protoss did not need to see; they had thermal sensors. And neither did the Zerg.

Aesearia took a quick head count. Of the original forty-eight Protoss she had, thirty-six remained. Twelve Protoss had already met their deaths that day; how long must this chaos go on?!

A random zergling came charging out of nowhere, once more demonstrating the overwhelming stupidity the Zerg sometimes possessed. Aesearia lashed out with her psi blades and decapitated the zergling, leaving the body to crumple to the ground.

Then it dawned on her. The zergling was a scout.

"Prepare yourselves!" Aesearia shouted to her fellow Protoss. "The Zerg are pushing!"

"There!" a Zealot shouted, pointing at a swarm of zerglings darting towards them.

"Zealots! Front line! Hold your ground! Dragoons, Immortals, behind! Fire under cover!" Aesearia yelled, quickly giving orders in what little time they had left.

Her Protoss brethren assembled into a concave before her eyes. Aesearia took her place with her fellow Zealots, bracing herself for battle. The Zerg must have known that they had no High Templar, for zerglings charged regardless into the curve of Zealots. One psi storm would have taken all of them out.

Zerglings swarmed them. Aesearia hacked left to right, dodging blows and parrying others, and allowing her plasma shields to deflect any she missed. Out of the corner of her vision, she could see hydralisks advancing behind the zerglings, preparing to fire their needle spines once more. Even further back, unburrowed spine crawlers were coming forth, establishing firm forward ground for the Zerg. While the zerglings kept the Zealots occupied, the hydralisks focus-fired down any Dragoons or Immortals that attempted to fire a shot out of cover.

"Stay behind cover!" Aesearia yelled to her ranged units. "Attack only when you have full plasma shields! Stay alive!"

Soon enough, Aesearia lost count of the number of Zerg she sliced down. Nonetheless, for every fallen Zerg, a dozen more took its place. As for herself, she could feel her plasma shields failing, and could see that the same was happening for her Zealot brethren all around her. The Zerg had endless waves of reinforcements; Aesearia's numbers were dwindling by the minute. If her requested siege units did not come soon, they would all perish. But again, even if they did come, splash damage would still kill some Zealots. She couldn't try to retreat for the siege ships; the zerglings were too fast. Any type of tactical maneuver was not possible, given the colossal number of zerglings present. To make things worse, more zerglings were coming! She was sure of it.

More time had passed. Too many Protoss had fallen, turning into wisps of blue smoke reaching for the sky. By then, it was clear that the reinforcements Aesearia requested would not be arriving. She prepared for death. At the very least, she would have died for the Protoss, for Aiur. She had distracted the Zerg while other Protoss made way to center of the ruined city, beneath which a Mothership, the crown jewel of Protoss technology, laid. The Terrans that once settled here had built an entire city, not knowing that under the very heart of their home was a piece of Protoss ingenuity capable of destroying it within the blink of an eye. The point of the mission was to reawaken the Mothership; if she helped the Protoss recover the ship, then she was successful; that was all that mattered. The battle will be over soon; the Zerg may have won the battle, but the Protoss will have won this war…

But no! Even as she slashed away at zerglings, the holographic head of the Executor came to life before her, completely disregarding the killing around her. The image was fuzzy with static at first, but soon revitalized itself.

"Your reinforcements are here," Selendis declared, allowing some note of pride slipping into her intonation. "Behold! The Tempest."

Aesearia knew she couldn't afford to look around, and kept on blocking zergling blows. However, she did hear a faint explosion somewhere in the distance, and, a few moments later, a huge blue ball of pure crackling lightning larger than a Siege Tank shot through the air and into the crowd of Zerg behind the zerglings (the explosion was fairly far away from her warriors, so no one died to friendly fire as she had anticipated). She could faintly see Zerg bodies being tossed about like mere toys, blue arcs flying across their airborne corpses. The Zerg were not completely dead, but the damage was done.

"Their hydralisks are dead!" Aesearia yelled. "Charge!"

Zealots around her rallied the call ("For Aiur!"), Charging with blades ablaze and morale renewed into glorious battle. Dragoons and Immortals stepped out into the open, blasting everything possible with dead accuracy. The battle will, indeed, be over soon, but she was wrong about the last part. The Protoss, it seemed, would be winning both this battle and this war.

She raised her psi blades and charged into a sea of zerglings.


	10. Chapter 9 - Unshed Tears

Author's Note: We interrupt your regularly scheduled awesomeness to bring you this _shocking _news. This chapter was _actually_ updated on time! How unbelievable?!

Now back to your regularly scheduled awesomeness.

Seriously, though, told you I'll get it up tomorrow. Today. Whatever. *Smirk* This chapter only has, like, 600 words, though. *Smirk rapidly slides off* I know, I know, it's pathetic. I'll work on it tomorrow, okay? Okay. Next chapter will be a flashback of Naszul. I know, right? A flashback within a flashback? I might as well go ahead and name the next chapter Inception! Right.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy, and I'll see you guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyyyyyys NEXT time!

-End Husky Outro.

Seriously, though, go onto YouTube and subscribe to HuskyStarcraft for StarCraft AWESOMENESS. You're welcome, Husky. I just got you, like, two subscribers. Ah well. Free commercial is still commercial, no matter how sucky.

Review!

I fall back to the shadows.

That phrase is actually going to be a thing in the next chapter, you know. SPOILER ALERT!

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

Aesearia stood on a large piece of concrete, stepping on a hydralisk corpse, an arm on an upraised knee. She surveyed the bloody battlefield with remorse for her fallen brethren, watching on grimly as a Warp Prism slowly made its way to what remained of her Cohort. Even though they had emerged victorious in the end, the battle delivered a devastating blow to their Cohort. Before the battle, she had thirty-six Protoss left. Now, all that remained were eleven Zealots, six Dragoons, and six Immortals. Only twenty-three Protoss remained.

Her eyes scanned over the bodies of the dead Zerg, registering the littering corpses. Blood stained the ruined concrete floor, flowing through every corner, seeping through every crack. She regarded the dead enemy with cold contempt. She watched on dispassionately as her Zealots picked through the Zerg, finishing any that may have survived the battle. Some would have considered it a _coup de grace_. She considered it vengeance. She turned her head away, and her eyes came to rest on another type of debris; this one was not stained with blood. Golden, slender, embedded with clear blue crystals. The remains of Immortals and Dragoons.

A curious sadness seize her, unrelenting, unforgiving.

She jumped off of her piece of rock, landing with a slight mental grunt. She walked, ever so slowly, approaching the Protoss debris with remorse and respect. There was also a fair portion of regret.

Eyes stricken with grief, she stopped in front of the golden remains of an Immortal and knelt before it, the way a granddaughter would over the grave of her grandparents. Its smoking body was severed from the lower half, its legs spread haphazardly across the ground. Dull blue crystals flashed bright for a brief second and died. She read the Protoss inscription on the hull of the suit and gathered that the dead one was a warrior named Noszul. Reaching out with her hand, she gently caressed the cold golden armor with grief-ridden fingers. Upon contact, however, she noticed something startling.

A psionic signature was resonating from the Immortal.

She mentally sighed, laying her hand to rest on a leg. Noszul's psionic presence was still there.

"I know you can hear me, Naszul," Aesearia said dejectedly. "We have won, though the victory was costly. You may return to the Khala knowing that we succeeded."

A sudden gust of wind picked up dust and particles of blood, scattering it all over the battlefield. Visibility dropped drastically for a moment, but no one was fearing a mutalisk attack. They were too busy grieving over the lost.

A distant, disembodied whisper echoed in the wind.

_What of Aiur, our beloved Homeworld?_

Aesearia stood up, half turning to leave, giving the ruined Immortal one last look.

"We will reclaim Aiur," Aesearia whispered to the wind.

Then she felt her psionic presence being yanked from her body. She glared at her collapsing body, panicking, wondering what in the name of Adun was happening, as her conscience was pulled towards the Immortal, beyond the ruined suit of armor, and into a grey vortex of chaos, like a piece of metal towards a magnet. Confused, she watched on from inside the vortex helplessly and despondently as reality shrank before her, vanished, and passed before her like a dream.

She fell, fell, and fell into the grey vortex.

Which was rapidly gaining a rainbow hue. Colors began to creep into existence, twisting and twirling madly, surrounding, engulfing her in a multi-colored maelstrom.

She then felt herself being dragged towards a brightness, the point of the vortex, into which several colors fed.

She zoomed towards the brightness.

And then knew nothing.

(In retrospect, it was simply _unfair_,the number of times she'd fallen unconscious already. Really? Falling unconscious in a flashback? _How_ in the name of Adun did that happen to her?! How does that even work?! Is this a thing now? Every hour or so, she'd fall unconscious? Is this some omen that she would die in her sleep? That is, if she lives long enough? Argh!)


	11. Update (please don't kill me)

Hello there. Now, before you behead me and set me alight, I want to apologize. Again. I know I haven't written for _soooooooooooooo_ long. But, you know, I'm moving, and moving between two houses, and whatnot. It's quite time-consuming, really. But that's no excuse.

And don't you go thinking I've been doing nothing, either! I've been working on something, alright... *Cue Ominous Thunder and Lightning* MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BEHOLD, MY (not-so-finished) CREATION! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

* * *

The city of Augustgrad was quite grand, really. The skyscrapers, a testimony to human ingenuity higher than the sky, would compete for dominance, sunlight reflecting off the smooth glass, making the buildings seem like colossus mirrors at times. Multicolored lights would hang in the air, suspended by some unseen hand, flashing at day and night, bathing the city in ever-changing colors. Civilian cruisers would shoot through the air, floating high (at least a few dozen feet) above the ground, sometimes disregarding traffic rules to avoid getting yelled at by their respective bosses, crisscrossing on multiple layers. Down in the streets lined with majestic street-lamps, beautiful green trees would rise, swaying happily in the wind, blossoming flowers by their sides, flashing their bright brilliance at passer-bys. The civilians would happily tread on, mostly unaware of the true terrors of war, generously greeting friends and walking dogs, living their happy, pretentious little lives.

It was a pretty nice place to live, in short.

The city of Augustgrad was quite grand, really.

Oh, make no mistake. The people were well aware of the war, even if most of their mental images of the war were completely wrong. They've heard of the Zerg, sure, but have never met them in person, and thus could not even hope to comprehend the aura of utter terror the Zerg radiated. They've heard of zerglings, but never knew what they looked like. They've known that they were at war, but really didn't participate. They lived on as normally as you'd think – buying groceries, arguing with their family, crying over spilled milk, completing annoying homework. The war was something existent, but intangible. It was a cloud of doom, a fog in the distance. It insinuated imminent death and destruction. But it was not immediate! It was not certain! The war might not spread this far! Besides, this was the center of the Dominion! The center of Terran civilization! The Zerg would never push this far! Why should the war bother them? They had no business in the war. Let the Dominion soldiers take care of that! Why else did they pay their taxes?

(This they thought, unwilling to move away and settle somewhere far away from the Zerg, unwilling to give up everything they had and start a new, poor, albeit safe life, not knowing that this was _exactly_ what the Jews before the Earth War II (you know this as World War II) were thinking as they sat where they were in Europe, taking no measures to keep themselves safe except for believing in their weak, corrupted governments, while the Nazis, hungry, animal, wild predators in the dark, paced around their homes, contemplating how best to utterly destroy the Jewish. Most of them died in the end, mostly from their reluctance to act earlier.)

(The civilians of Augustgrad should have realized that the Zerg were most likely to invade Augustgrad eventually. After all, Augustgrad _is_ the center of the Dominion, as pointed out earlier. The Dominion, one of the Zerg's greatest enemies. Honestly! Augustgrad was _bound_ to get overrun by the Zerg eventually.)

(After all, it is in human nature to ignore, to pacify, to rationalize all serious threats until they knocked at the front door.)

(In short, it is in human nature to be imprudent and utterly, completely stupid.)

The city of Augustgrad was quite grand, really.

Until the Zerg did the impossible.

Until the Zerg invaded.

And it was for this reason that most civilians died when the Zerg came. They did not take the precaution to move away, out of their sheer imprudence. They did not have the courage to leave everything behind, to start over. They were afraid. They were unable to overcome their fear.

And their failure had cost them their lives.

About a day after the Zerg invaded, Augustgrad was nothing but a ghost town except for a small cluster of Dominion forces protecting the center of the city. All of the civilians were dead. Some died in their homes. Some died in the streets. Some died trying to escape. Some died praying. Others died in their transports, headed for a nonexistent safety. All of them died panicking. On the streets, the once-beautiful trees were nearing death, leaves gone, their branches naked and exposed. Purplish Zerg matter crept up the dying trunks, absorbing essence, leeching on the bark, parasites choking their hosts to death. The once-blooming flowers were gone. In their place was the fluctuating surface of bubbling Zerg Creep, the ultimate symbol of the Zerg. It was efficient, unyielding, deadly, and relentless. It was Zerg. The streets themselves were barren, lifeless, containing only the periodical dead corpse or overturned vehicle. The occasional gust of wind, replacing the sound of the noisy civilian traffic in the skies, swept up whirlwinds of dust, displacing them about the city. Augustgrad, _the_ mighty Augustgrad, was reduced to nothing by the Zerg in a mere day.

The city of Augustgrad was quite grand, really.

Until the Zerg invaded.

A Leviathan hung over the city, casting its colossus shadow over the city like a blanket; a blanket of terror, of fear. The Leviathan was a symbol of death, of fear, of utter destruction, looming in the uncertain, intangible distance, inducing terror in all who beheld it. Despite this, however, it was calm. It was slow, measured, calm. It floated slowly, ever so slowly, and with a hint of majesty, towards the center of Augustgrad. It was a measured capsule of chaos; it was controlled chaos, however controversial that may seem. And it threatened, this deceptively seemingly peaceful creature, to lay waste to an entire city, a city that was the heart of human ingenuity.

The heart of human civilization itself.

And before the imminent destruction, the creature was ever so calm, so measured. If one didn't see the Leviathan, one would have thought that nothing was wrong, save for the eerie silence that hung in the air, a creeping uncertainty more frightening than the grave. There were no explosions; there was no screaming. There was nothing wrong, and there was nothing at all; everything was empty. It was the calm before the storm.

Or rather, the calm before the Swarm.

* * *

So, what do you think? That's what I have so far. I'm planning on novelizing the entire HoTS opening cinematic. I'm going to keep going until I'm done. This should be done soon... But I know you won't trust me, which is cool. :3 I know I haven't been satisfactory lately (har, har, har. -_-...). Anyway, the HoTS will be posted as a separate one-shot story. Just wanted to post this to keep you guys informed. I'm not dead yet, you know! Yet.

Probably should have put that at the beginning. Would have been a nice intro. Whatever. Too lazy. To even write in complete sentences. Ya.

Anyway, hope you guys have enjoyed, and I'll see you guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuy s _next time_!

(Outro Copyright 2013, HuskyStarcraft)

(Thanks for (not) letting me use the outro, Husky! Ur awesome!)


	12. Update (Feedback please!)

Hello there! This is yet another update. Now, sorry again for the lack of stuff lately, but I'm brewing with ideas right now. I need your feedback. Firstly, I am considering starting yet another story, crossover of Minecraft and His Dark Materials. Fear not, for this does _not_ mean that I am abandoning Hostility Awaits. What I am thinking, though, is possibly _not_ starting a new story and sticking to Hostility Awaits and bringing in characters from all worlds. Like a massive crossover.

What I'm planning: a couple of chapters later, Aesearia and her crew will stumble across a crashed Science Vessel, which is apparently haunted. That'll be a story arc. Afterwards, they will stumble upon a whole village with players, all of whom have been teleported to the Minecraft Universe, which is only one universe in the many-universe theory. I know it sounds crazy, but stick with me here.

There are many universes, which coexist in a Multi-Verse. (This is confirmed science, as far as I know. Something that came from Schrödinger's Cat. Or the Bernard-Stokes Experiment. Not sure which.) There are several of them involving Minecraft as a reality; our story takes place among one of them. Now, there are other worlds too, such as the world of Harry Potter, where magic existed, the world of His Dark Materials, the world of Star Wars, the world of StarCraft, etc.. What happens is that the fabric of the Multi-Verse has lost its integrity, causing sentient entities (and things around them) to randomly teleport to other universes when subject to high energies. When Aesearia was teleported to Aiur, for example, several gigaJoules of energy was easily involved. As a result of this high energy, she was randomly teleported to a Minecraft universe. She might even meet a copy of herself while in Minecraft, from a universe parallel to hers. That would be creepy, though. Ya, let's do that. :D

Anyway, it's gonna turn out that loads of people had also entered Minecraft that way. Some of them might even have been experiencing a nuclear explosion when they got teleported. Aesearia is going to find a village _full_ of sentient beings. Of course, I had stated earlier that she had sensed no sentient beings around (I think), so I'll have to either change that or do something to make things fit. Ya. Da. Russian. German. Or vice versa. Whatever.

Yeah. Anyway, that's my general plan right now. As for the plot itself… Well, so far, I've only revealed to you what types of characters are going to be involved. As for plot…

Well, I'm not going to tell you! *troll face*

Tell me what you think of these ideas in the reviews, please. (Nearly said "comments" there. _Not_ YouTube.) I need your feedback right now. This will determine the outline of the story plot itself. Tell me what you want to see, and I will do my best to see it happen.

Was that a cheesy Presidential Speech or what?!

Whatever.

Feedback, please! :)

BTW, the HoTS openning novelized is coming on fine right now. I've actually gotten to the part where she begins her monologue. :P Hope to see that one-shot up soon. Really, I do.

Until next time... (thumbs up for cheesy)(wait, this isn't YouTube)(whatever)

*smokebomb*

*dramatic exit*


	13. Update (Feedback is mandatory, Harry!)

Strike that. I'm going to start a new story anyway.

It will take place within the same world as Aesearia's Minecraft. It will be a crossover between His Dark Materials and Minecraft. If you don't know what HDM is, fear not. You don't need to go and read the trilogy all over again – just read and sort of feel the characters. It'll make sense. Hopefully.

Anyway, sometime during the new story, the new main characters will meet Aesearia and her crew (i.e., Daniel, Ethan, Arf). At that point, the two stories integrate will be both assimilated into Hostility Awaits. Pretty genius, huh?

Huh?

Well, whatever. *rolls eyes*

Tell me what you think. I won't/can't start writing until you do, as your opinion will influence my choice greatly, so hurry up! I'm really itching to start writing! Then you can meet Lyra, and Lyra, and Pantalaimon, and Astrapi, and yeah. Lots of characters. Really awesome. And I can hear people griping outside about the rain, but whatever! Random. 1y2oecwiajnfjilsdc.

Anyway, tell me what you guys think, and I'll see you guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys NEXT TIME!

*smoke bomb*


	14. Update (what is this, 4?)

Sorry, but you guys have been irresponsive for way too long. I simply _can't_ wait. So I'll post the prologue for the new story and see what you think. If, again, you find the story bad, I'll delete it. Maybe. Sorry for any insinuations. :D

Actually, that's really ironic. I say _I_ can't wait when it's _you_ guys who have been forced to wait for, like, a month. Yeah. I'm a horrible person.

Anyway, I'm posting the new story, go check it out, and hopefully you'll enjoy it. Have fun!


	15. Chapter 10 - FALL BACK TO THE SHADOWS

Author's Notes: Sup, dudes! Just wanted to make this update to tell you I'm not dead. And there's a new chapter! Yay! *Confetti* Anyway, enjoy the story!

By the way, I've decided to merge this story with Dust Integrity Failing, another FanFic I'm currently working on. The style will be exactly that of the Song of Ice and Fire; in other words, chapters alternating between Aesearia's point of view and Lyra's point of view. Should be fun. Right?

Whatever. Can't wait to set my plans in motion! BwAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA

I'm going to end up in a mental asylum one of these days.

Enjoy! :D

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

She was in the streets of a small city.

That was the first thing she came to realize.

She looked around, sensing something remotely different. She felt out-of-place here, as if she were a puzzle piece that did not quite belong in the big picture. She rose to the skies.

The city, though it would be more appropriately called a village, was distinctly Protoss. A tiny cluster of golden skyscrapers competed for dominance in the skies, reaching for the heavens, taller than is conceivable. Some distance away was a Nexus, the heart of it all, the stairway to the stars, supplying psionic power to all buildings around it, containing the life of the city. A giant Khaydarin crystal hung in place, frozen above the colossal structure, refracting the gleaming sunlight into a colorful rainbow. Probes mined away at the mineral patches at the base of the Nexus, periodically returning their cargo to it. Vespene harvesters pumped green exhaust out of its twin chimneys, spiraling upwards. Next to the Pylons were small, golden, elegant Protoss dwellings. Aesearia could see at least two dozen of such homes, all loved and endeared, and several more buildings, such as schools, stores, and even an open market. On the outskirts of the small city was a cluster of military structures, several Warp Gates surrounding two Stargates. The entire city stretched out on a beautiful and mesmerizing piece of rolling green hills covered with greenery. The skies radiated a shocking blue, and fluffy white clouds drifted past overhead. It was a beautiful place. It was almost like a dream. It was the home that Aesearia had been longing for since forever. She gazed upon the scene for quite some time, absorbed as she was in the picture, until night began to fall.

This place gained a whole new level of beauty at night.

Blue lights, somehow brilliant despite being dim, came on in each of the buildings. Triple moons rose in the skies in unison, bright, blinking stars complimenting them in the background. The gentle moonlight slowly crept into the city, and soon, everything was surrounded in a soft, silver glow.

The dim blue and the loving silver were _very_ pretty together.

Suddenly, Aesearia found herself speculating within the deep recesses of her mind, placing herself in this attractive scenery. She saw herself tending the Nexus, fixing the Probes, and returning to home at night, sleeping a long, sweet slumber after gazing at the bright, blinking stars. She saw herself relaxing and writing literature under the shading of a tall, wonderful green tree, watching the animals grazing on the gentle rolling hills in the distance.

But the scene was disrupted.

The first sign was the zerglings in the distance.

The Zerg Swarm had arrived.

She watched helplessly as the Zerg advanced from the horizons, crossed into the city, destroying everything in their paths. Zerglings overwhelmed the Probes trying to fight back, tearing them apart, leaving nothing but their smoking remains behind. The Assimilators fell to needle spines, and the Nexus exploded into a shower of blue sparks after its shields failed.

But that was not the end. She could see several more Protoss warping in at the Pylons, and though some of them failed, the majority of them got through. Zealots began slicing away at the zerglings, and Stalkers Blinked left to right, baiting the hydralisks, killing them without even a scratch. There were Dark Templar, too; they were the unseen ones, creeping in the shadows, striking and then disappearing into oblivion.

But the Protoss army was not enough. The last of the Zealots fell as the Stalkers ran out of the mental strength to Blink. After the last Stalker was cornered near the Vespene geyser, all that remained fighting against the Zerg were the Dark Templar, who sliced away relentlessly with their warp blades.

But it was apparent that the Dark Templar were not enough to stop the onslaught, for more Zerg were arriving by the minute.

The last of the Protoss reinforcements began warping in at the few remaining Pylons as evacuation began. Zealots ran from the battles scenes, rushing towards the Protoss dwellings. Stalkers Blinked to the homes. It was so incriminating, seeing her Protoss brethren run from the battle. She wanted to scream, scream for the Zealots to Charge back into battle, scream for the Stalkers to Blink to the front lines, scream for them to face the Zerg and take the fight to them.

But somewhere down, she knew that couldn't, and wouldn't, happen.

She dropped down, descending to watch the scene better.

She watched, horrified, as the doors of a dwelling was destroyed by acid, roaches striding in and covering most everything with a vile liquid. A family cowered in the corner, mother and father hiding the son behind them. They dressed like Templar – the silken gold dress, the elaborate, rich robe, and the smaller, brown robe for the child.

The family radiated fear and terror. They watched on despondently, visibly shaking as the roaches slowly approached them with lust and hunger written all over their monstrous faces. Aesearia could feel something dangerously close to desperate anger radiating from the father, though, and as the roaches pressed closer, bright blue psi blades, brighter than any she had ever seen, burst nakedly from his bare wrists and he charged forward, simultaneously shoving the mother and the child away from him and towards the exit with pure psionic might. He roared one thought at them:

_RUN_

The mother, taking cue, took up the child in her arms and ran out.

Aesearia desperately hoped that she could help the warrior, but she was less than the meanest ghost in this world. His death was a glorious one, though. Aesearia felt his psionic signature go out as he vanished under a veritable mountain of roaches, mostly dead.

Aesearia murmured a silent prayer for him and left to pursue the mother and the child.

They were at least two blocks away by the time Aesearia found them, and they were taking a left turn when a Zealot rounded the corner and, upon seeing them, offered a helping hand –

The mother thrust her palm at the Zealot, which promptly exploded into organic purple flesh.

The mother kept running.

After passing the last house, they left the residential area and were approaching the only operating Warpgate when another Zealot spotted them and, again, offered a helping hand. The mother strafed the Zealot in a circle and kept running towards the Stargates, where safety was, when she turned back to see the Zealot burst into sparks and clouds of bright blue that were gone as quick as they came –

And felt a pang of guilt –

And kept running.

They were nearly at the Stargate when a clump of zerglings found them. Like a tidal wave, they rushed at the mother, their wings and fangs clattering in a cacophony of death –

The mother yelled -

_ZERAH'HAH _–

And there was light.

Bright blue strands of lightning arced from her outstretched hand to the zerglings. A mess of purple flesh and a pool of blood was all that remained.

But then a hydralisk slithered into view from around the corner.

Then another.

Then another dozen.

The first one raised its wicked talons to strike down the Protoss, but then –

A faint blur of a dancing, burning green –

The hydralisk screamed as its entire arm fell to the ground, blood pouring –

And the scream was abruptly cut off as its head fell to join its arm.

The hydralisks, now more concerned with the invisible threat rather than the civilian, began shooting needle spines in every direction conceivable, even the sky –

The mother fell, a needle spine jutting out from her chest, unnoticed in the chaos -

A hydralisk screamed psionically –

And an Overseer appeared in the skies –

The hydralisks now fired more precisely, aiming their spines at the shimmering figure that they can now decipher –

The figure rushed towards the fallen mother, whispered –

_ADUN TORIDAS_

and plunged his blade into the dying Protoss's chest. Something in the mother's eyes seemed to flicker, and then she was gone. The assassin quickly gathered the struggling child in his arms, ignored the mental anguish from the young one, dodged another round of spines, and ran down a dark alley –

The hydralisks slithered after –

And another Dark Templar dropped from the rooftops, taking a hydralisk down with him as he fell. He performed a spectacular back-flip, vaporized half the spines shot at him, and danced back to the other _Nerazim_.

"There are too many!" the one with the child said to the other, ignoring the child's outstretched arms still trying to reach his mother.

"This is a fight we cannot win! The Stalkers are already retreating at the east, 'tis time we did the same."

Lines of glowing dark blue suddenly appeared in the air to announce the arrival of at least half a dozen Stalkers, at the same time that a swarm of zerglings arrived to storm the Dark Templar.

"_Fall back to the shadows! Come, brothers!_"

The child suddenly began wailing (mentally, of course). The pure psionic anguish was enough that all the Protoss around felt his cries of

_MOTHER!_

"_FALL BACK TO THE SHADOWS!_" the Dark Templar yelled again, waving his arm over his head. Things seemed to slow then, the _Nerazim_'s arms eternally hanging above his head, beams of blue eternally floating in the air. The only thing that registered was the child's feverish calls of

_MOTHER!_


	16. Chapter 11 - The Shadowy Wings of Death

Author's Note: For those who are here from Hostility Awaits, welcome, and please enjoy your stay. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, let me fill you in.

This fic will include a lot of battle strategies, politics, betrayals, and common sense. Oh, did I mention hacking? Yep. If you have no idea what His Dark Materials is, don't worry. I'm not using much of the plot, just Lyra. You'll read more on her later. To ease your brains, I started off with the good old familiar Minecraft. This fic features good spelling and good grammar. Good diction too, I hope.

If you're new, definitely check out my other fic, Hostility Awaits. Dust Chronicles has been halted for the two Minecraft stories. This fic takes place within the same world as Hostility Awaits, and the two storylines will eventually merge together. Cool, eh? Eh?

Well... *cough*

Anyway, enjoy yourselves, and please review! They make my day! Enjoy!

UPDATE_ As of 7/19/2013, this fic is being integrated into Hostility Awaits. Fear not, this is part of an extremely complicated master plot which ends in me taking over the world. Flash circuits and lightning staffs may or may not be involved. As well as hacked tasers. *COUGH* I may have said too much already. With that in mind...

OBLIVIATE!

* * *

**_THE AGENT OF DEATH_**

The wither skeleton jumped from tree to tree, taking care to stay out of sight of the guards. Night had fallen already, and a full moon overlooked the scene, throwing the wither skeleton's shadow into that of the leaves. Numerous square stars peppered the night sky, moving mesmerizingly slowly with the moon.

The forest surrounded a small village, fenced off with cobblestone fencing. A couple of guards clad in iron armor and armed with iron swords patrolled the perimeter, giving away the importance of this small village bathed in moonlight.

The wither skeleton finally jumped down from the trees, after staying in them for so long. This wither skeleton, however, was different from your average wither skeleton. Firstly, and most obviously, it was in the Overworld. Secondly, instead of being armed with a stone sword, this one was armed with a glowing diamond sword, shimmering with a purple aura.

The wither skeleton hid behind the tree trunk, avoiding attention with utmost skill. It sneaked a peek at the guards and, seeing them patrolling somewhere else for the time being, snuck towards the fences and jumped over them.

Now, jumping over fences, no matter wooden, cobble, or mossy cobble, should be impossible without special effects.

Well, that wasn't the first impossible feat the wither skeleton pulled off.

The wither skeleton moved stealthily along the village paths, pausing to examine nothing, intent upon its prey. It held its diamond sword in its right hand, glowing and shimmering eerily, and a dark reddish-brown splash potion in its left.

Any skilled swordsman will comment on how professionally the wither skeleton held its sword. The positioning would be perfect for stabbing and blocking, the only two things necessary on short notice. Slicing would take too long, and thus was not important. If the wither skeleton had the element of surprise, a quick stab would finish everything. If not, a good block would parry just about everything as well, even a shot from the back.

Again, ordinary wither skeletons shouldn't be able to achieve this level of professionalism.

But this wasn't your ordinary wither skeleton.

It crept along the shadow of the village walls, pausing and pressing itself against the wood as a guard with torch in hand walked by. The guard stopped dead in his tracks, in the middle of the streets, and took out a piece of steak to eat. He placed a hand on his hips, using the other one to eat, and stared into the night sky. He gave a sigh of marvel.

The wither skeleton, now thoroughly annoyed, pondered whether or not to temporarily dispose of the man. As if he weren't inconvenient enough as a guard, he had the nerve to stop in the middle of the street! To have a midnight snack and gaze at the stars!

The wither skeleton put away its splash potion, taking out a shimmering arrow surrounded with violet light. Shooting an arrow would make too much sound, as would using a splash potion. The only way to dispose of this problem was to get up close and personal. The wither skeleton prepared the arrow, held it like an assassin's knife, and prepared to dash and strike –

And the guard packed up and resumed patrolling. After a short moment, he went out of sight.

The wither skeleton relaxed its tense figure, and replaced its arrow with the old potion.

It darted across the wide street, taking care to stay out of sight, seemingly making for the town center.

But it suddenly veered right, making for a random tree next to a small house. It paused at the trunk, peered around and, after seeing no one, pressed an obscure button at the bottom of the trunk. The button was well placed and blended in well with the tree; and yet somehow the wither skeleton knew to look there.

Pistons retracted loudly. The wither skeleton mentally winced at the loud noise and, after making sure yet again no guards were alarmed, jumped down the newly exposed hole and landed on a ladder, absorbing fall damage.

The secret entrance led to a very narrow stone hallway, only one block wide, preventing any type of bypass as long as there was a guard.

Which there was.

The guard, at the end of the hallway, seeing the wither skeleton, gripped his sword tightly and pressed a button next to him, no doubt the alarm, his expression full of panic and shock. The guard was positively sweating.

The wither skeleton inwardly cursed. It never liked killing sentient beings, but the guard had seen its identity. _That _information mustn't leak. The guard had to die.

Swiftly, the wither skeleton stabbed the guard in his chest. The guard was obviously inexperienced, for he did not even try to parry the blow. Instead, he dropped his sword as his eyes bulged in pain, his face twisted with shock and fear, and dropped to the ground, his knees melting, his hands gripping the wither skeleton's sword, vainly trying to pull it out. The wither skeleton, in response, thrust its sword even deeper in and twisted it, killing the guard instantly. His face was paralyzed with pain as he fell to the ground face-down, dead, and disappeared into a puff of smoke, leaving his inventory behind.

But the alarm had already been sounded. The wither skeleton knew it had perhaps only seconds to act, and, without hesitance, pulled a fire charge out from nowhere and threw it forcibly into the ground at the end of the hallway.

The hallway erupted, exploding into fire and smoke, leaving only a crater where an iron door had once been.

The wither skeleton quickly threw a splash potion of invisibility on the floor, cloaking itself for eight full minutes. Granted, there were still small particles from the potion, but they would be hidden in the smoke and debris from the explosion.

Guards flooded the narrow hallway, alarmed as to what was happening. They would most likely think that a creeper exploded, which was fine with the wither skeleton. In the confusion of the scene, it squeezed past the guards and out of the hallway, into a much wider and much more spacious lobby.

Granted, the lobby was only three blocks high, but that was better than the hallway back. The lobby was decorated richly with stone bricks and cobble seats. Potted trees filled the corner, painting the room with greenery. A deep purple carpet rolled down the center, complimenting the room even further. Lastly, glowstone were hidden behind glass, bathing the room in a romantic lighting. To any outside observer, the lobby was inconspicuous and innocent. It was very beautiful, though.

But the wither skeleton knew otherwise.

It quickly broke a piece of glass, and destroyed the glowstone behind it. A redstone torch dropped, breaking the circuit. The wither skeleton then darted out of the lobby and into yet another hallway.

This hallway was a bit wider and taller than the first, decorated with cobble. It lead to several wooden doors, behind each were small offices. The wither skeleton quickly made it into an office on the right and shut the door behind it.

There wasn't much in the office except for a large chest, a crafting table, a furnace, some bookshelves, and a writing table, complete with a chair. It would've been quite difficult to hide something in this room.

Without redstone, that is.

The broken circuit earlier had resulted in yet another retracted piston, revealing a chest underneath the writing table. The wither skeleton put its sword up and rummaged through the chest, and, after half a second, emerged victorious with its prey.

A book.

The wither skeleton put the book in its inventory and took out a fake, placing it back where the original book used to be. It then left the room, making for the lobby from whence it came.

The swarm of guards were still there, investigating the scene. Taking advantage of the confusion, the wither skeleton took out a redstone torch, a piece of glowstone, and a piece of glass, putting them back where they were. Hopefully, this would conceal the chest and hide any trace that the chest had been broken into.

The wither skeleton knew that the only way out of the complex was the way it came in. Obviously, that route was out of the question.

It went back to the cobble hallway that led to the wooden doors. It took out a diamond pickaxe and began digging its way upwards. After two swings of cobble, it reached dirt. The wither skeleton destroyed the three pieces of dirt and threw yet another splash potion at itself. It crouched, poising for a jump, and leaped out of the hole.


	17. Chapter 12 - Waking Early

Author's Note: Alrighty! This is the first chapter regarding Lyra and her world. For those of you who don't know, an alethiometer is a device capable of telling the truth through symbols. The meanings of the symbols are Bible-related, and often have many levels of meanings. Reading one is bad for your mental health unless you're a professional alethiometrist (just kidding about that). Anyway, sorry this chapter's a bit short, I'll really try and make them longer in the future.

For now though...

Enjoy! BTW, please review! If you figure out what the alethiometer's saying at the end of the chapter, write it down in a review! It's a MAJOR giveaway to the plot if you can get it right!

* * *

**_LYRA_**

Lyra Belacqua jolted awake, throwing her head about madly, blinking rapidly for the sleep to get out of her eyes. Her daemon, suddenly awake as well, thrashed about the pillows. Her sheets lie on the floor in a heap of mess, forgotten.

"Wha - "

"Hush, Lyra!" her Headmistress scolded, whispering urgently so as to not awaken Lyra's roommates around her, all still asleep. "Don't make too much fuss, child. It's still four in the morning. Dress, and come, quickly. The accelerator is just warming up. You don't want to miss this!"

Lyra stretched her arms, yawning quite overtly, earning a stern look from her Headmistress.

"Right," she mumbled sleepily, earning yet another sharp look from her mentor. "I'll be down in a mo'. Just give me and Pan here some time to dress." She yawned again.

"Well," Dame Hannah said after throwing Lyra one final nasty look, "you better get up there quickly, or we'll start without you!"

She then stormed out of the dormitory quietly, which was not something anyone could've done, and slammed the door shut, also quietly, which was also not something anyone could've done. But again, this was Dame Hannah.

The dormitory was normal in every way you'd expect it to be. It was a small, cramped room, with four small beds in four corners, in three of which lied asleep, peaceful young ladies, and in the other one sat a very disgruntled and sleepy Lyra Belacqua. The room was rather organized, save for Lyra's small corner, which comprised of a small writing desk overflowing with papers and scraps. The moderately-high ceiling was elaborately decorated with painted green vines, which crept down the sides of the four walls.

Lyra yawned again, attempting to stifle it with her hands. Even her sleeping gown was messy.

"Reckon we should get going," Pantalaimon, Lyra's daemon, her soul's embodiment, mumbled sleepily.

"Right you are," Lyra yawned again.

She slowly pushed herself off the bed, and began rummaging through her small drawer for something clean and presentable to wear. It would cause her no end of trouble if she showed up at the accelerator wearing something nasty in front of the Headmistress.

She dressed slowly, picking out the one with light blue laces at the end of everything. Putting on her skirt, she suddenly sneezed loudly. She looked around and, after making sure everyone was still sound asleep, put on a warm, thick white coat for good measure. She walked into the restroom and stared at the mirror a tad after brushing her teeth.

Her pale blue eyes stared back at her. It had been at least three years since she and Will had parted ways. After returning, she enrolled in St. Sophia's College to relearn the ways of the alethiometer. Her research had quickly evolved into advanced experimental theology, and had carried her far. Recently, her college had received a generous donation to fund the creation of a new particle accelerator, which was cutting-edge technology, and they were hoping to produce first-hand results regarding Dust break-down with it.

She pulled her dirty blond hair back into a ponytail and walked out the dormitory, pausing only to pick up her satchel with the alethiometer inside. She closed the door behind her with a silent finality, and walked quickly down the carpeted hallway, Pantalaimon jogging by her, hoping not to break into a fresh sprint. Maybe she wouldn't be too late, and Dame Hannah would not be too cross. Hopefully.

She had no idea that while she walked briskly, her alethiometer was repeatedly pointing to symbols wildly inside her satchel:

Apple, Hourglass, Thunderbolt, Tree…

Apple, Hourglass, Thunderbolt, Tree…

Apple, Hourglass, Thunderbolt, Tree…


	18. Chapter 13 - Watching

Author's Note: Mr. J 's BACK IN TOWN, _BABY!_

Ahem.

Again, ideas are welcome. BTW, infested Terrans WILL be in the next episode. Lots and lots of horror elements. :D

Please review! Enjoy!

BTW, if you missed any chapters, the last update was a _triple_ update (ikr). Make sure you read ALL OF THEM.

On second thought, re-read the entire story just to refresh your memory. IMO.

Lots of physics going to take place. Warning ya'!

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

Again that blissfulness. Again the gently arcing lightning. Again the paradise.

She was barely aware that she was _aware_ before –

_"Greetings, Protoss. We meet again."_

Aesearia (that was her name, it seemed) was taken aback. Where had she…

_"In the time that we have spent apart, I have collected several important figures - "_

Oh right. The crazy Voice again.

_" – most of which are vitally crucial to you, of all. Firstly, your fellow Protoss and, for that matter, all that ever and will exist, are facing a threat far greater than any that the Zerg or even the Xel'naga can ever pose."_

…_What?!_

_"The natural phenomenon that brought you and your companions here is a result of the weakening bonds of the Universes, in their entirety. If we do not heal it, all that is shall perish."_

_ …How did this happen? Why didn't it happen before?_

_ "…I am to understand that this is to do with entropy and Dust, and several other factors which you would be completely alien to, despite your advanced knowledge in the sciences. I am amongst the pathetically few that are, and perhaps, ever will be aware of this. I am not all powerful, and neither are the sentiences with whom I can and do consult. Therefore, I require assistance. Yours, in particular, since you of all have been chosen to be fit to aid us._

_ "The first you must do is make your way off this world, this parallel universe. You, of course, shall be accompanied by others, but whether or not you will stay together I cannot foresee, for much is that which clouds the future, and neither I nor my peers are able to pierce through the dark that cloaks the Dust. I should think, however, that your quest shall both start and end in this world. _

_ "But I am not certain. Nothing is, anymore."_

_ How am I supposed to make it off this world?_

There was a pause, in which Aesearia could sense the thick, tangible perception of Doom that she felt the last time she was around the entity once more. It grew stronger and stronger still, until –

Her setting darkened in the matter of a Blink, and angry flashes of malignant energy, not the peaceful discharges of static from before, blasted across the clouds, and she could barely sense the Voice raising _something _in defense –

* * *

"Hey, Aesearia. You scannin' me?"

She became aware of her surroundings very slowly, and saw Ethan's face looming over hers.

"What happened?" she intoned blankly.

Then she became aware of a cool feeling around her feet and hands, whereupon she sat up to look down on her limbs –

And saw small buckets of a thick, white liquid.

She raised her right hand, examined it, and recognized that the liquid, curiously, did not cling to her skin.

"Glad to see you came about," Daniel's voice said.

She looked up, and saw Daniel standing at the doorway to their humble house, silvery moonlight streaming in behind him. There was a smile on his face, but there was something grim about it. She could literally feel that something was bothering the Terran; out of sheer respect, she did not peek into his mind. Though she could have.

"I had to find some milk in order to cure you of the poison," he continued, pacing around the room. "That was the only thing that could have been affecting you. I could think of nothing else. You obviously had no mouth, so I had to gamble that you could absorb it through your skin. Looks like I was right." He paused, leaned on a wooden table, and continued. "None of the rest of us had been poisoned. The spiders shouldn't have been able to even touch you. The only thing I can conclude is that someone purposefully poisoned you." He stopped again and stared into Aesearia's bright blue eyes, as if trying to read her thoughts.

(_Yeah, as if _that_ could ever happen._)

"Tell me. Did you hear any glass breaking? A _twang_? Anything?" Aesearia replied with all shakes, and Daniel pressed a hand to his forehead, obviously frustrated. "To make things worse," he said from under his hand, "I found this note nailed to our door." He unceremoniously threw a piece of cube-formed paper at Aesearia.

She caught it with her psionic abilities, raised her right hand to receive it, and –

"I can read _none_ of this."

(This was followed by much face-palming and sighing on Daniel's behalf and much stifled laughter on Ethan's behalf. Arf sleepily raised a head and then lowered it.)

Aesearia handed the paper over to Daniel, who received it and proceeded to read aloud. "'I'm watching you,'" he said, and placed it on the table behind him. His face was grim. "This, combined with the fact that you were poisoned, tells me that something very dangerous is probably on our tail. I'm guessing Herobrine. It's about time he noticed us."

Aesearia shuddered mentally. If she were to fight this Herobrine alone, he would probably be demolished. If the Protoss army fought him ("it"?), he would be gone before you can Blink. But fight him on his _territory_, where he was _indestructible _can _do whatever he pleased_…

They were all dead.

_So_ very _dead_.

"Why," Aesearia voiced tiredly, "doesn't he simply kill us all right now, then? If he can do these things - "

"I have no idea," Daniel muttered softly. "It seems as if he's toying with us. After all, there's nothing else in this world for his attention.

"Right?"

* * *

By the next morning, it had been decided that mining trips were out of the question (much to Daniel's protest). Daniel, from that point forth, would have to rely on "stone tools", and would take up farming (for food). Aesearia raised the question of whether or not the note-bearer was even Herobrine, but Daniel firmly assured her that it was him, and Ethan agreed with a grunt.

("This guy might be crazy," Ethan had muttered to Aesearia while Daniel was gone, "but he sure as hell knows what he's doing. I'm betting he's right on this one as well.")

So she had nothing to do but meditate and cast experimental psionic storms. She was getting better at them, and honing her mental skills helped making them less exhausting.

Daniel had introduced to them a game called "chess" (which, given the _absurd_ rules, _had _to have originated from Earth), of which Daniel was a prodigy, Ethan knew little, and Aesearia was clueless. Daniel had taken it upon himself to create a small game-board, matching pieces, and teach Aesearia how to play.

Needless to say, he dominated both of them.

Ethan had suggested darkly (behind Daniel's back, of course) that Daniel was making the whole thing up and rigging it so that _only _he could win.

Aesearia had then suggested that Daniel make the pieces for the Protoss game _Koramund_.

(The sarcasm was _entirely_ missed by Daniel.)

Daniel had insisted that Aesearia explained the rules first.

He fell asleep before Aesearia could explain the fifth piece.

(To be sure, the nighttime may have contributed to that, but Daniel had claimed to rather roast alive than to sit through another explanation.)

Ethan refused to even talk about the subject, after seeing Daniel's reaction.

What? It wasn't as if she could brainwash them or anything…

Oh, wait.

She _could_.


	19. Chapter 14 - Runes

Author's Note: There. The promised long update. This sits at 2000 words!

Enjoy. I can't think of anything else to say.

Oh, right! IN case you were wondering, experimental theology is the equivalent of physics. Just a different name.

Enjoy, and please review! If you like the story, suggest it to your friends! Have fun! Next update should be up soon!

UPDATE_ This is 7/20/2013. This is a double update; Make sure you read the chapter before this! Chapters 10 to 14 are ALL NEW. READ THEM ALL.

In this world, Chaplain means Scientist. Religion is heavily mixed with EVERYTHING.

A really corrupt world, in other words.

New update tomorrow. Have fun! Review!

* * *

_**LYRA**_

Lyra quietly shut the heavy wooden door behind her, her eyes intent upon the large accelerator, a pine marten that was Pantalaimon on her shoulder.

Several scholars surrounded the accelerator, among which was Dame Hannah. She waved at Lyra covertly and motioned for her to come over, all the while mouthing "_Where were you?_"

Lyra quickly arrived at her mentor's side.

"I was sleepy, right?" she whispered to her Headmistress. "Took me a while to get situated."

"Well, get situated faster," Dame Hannah scolded under her breath. "If you miss this, you'll be cursing your soul for the rest of your life. Now hush and watch.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Dame Hannah's voice rang clearly through the large, carpeted room lit by naphtha lamps. All conversations ceased as heads turned to look at her. "The accelerator will be powered up shortly. Chaplain, if you will start the Van de Graaff generator?"

A deep hum resonated around the room as the generator started. There was a tense silence as charges accumulated on the colossal metal sphere, generating hundreds of thousands of volts to power the accelerator. Lyra held her breath as she saw count-down timer on the far wall tick down, down, down, down, to the last ten seconds before the accelerator was turned on…

With a loud blast, the room shook as the accelerator jumped to life. Lyra could not see anything for the thick, metal plating that covered the accelerator, but she knew that a Dust collector was already attracting Dust, and an alpha particle was already being accelerated around the machine…

Then everything went wrong.

Everything turned a sudden shade of blue, then violet, then a deep, angry purple.

And Lyra knew no more.

* * *

Lyra slowly opened her eyes. Or, rather, she began to, but she found the full intensity of a blazing sun staring back at her. She raised her hand to shade her eyes out of reflex, and sat up from her sleeping position to look around.

But where was she? The last thing she remembered, she was in the accelerator room! What had happened since then? What happened to her?

Then something else hit her with the force of a hammer.

Everything was made out of cubes.

A desolate landscape stretched out before her. All she could conceive was an endless sea of sand, all grotesquely made of cubes. What she thought were cacti rose out of this lifeless sea, decorating sparsely with green. Other than that, there was not a thing in sight. A sharp outline surrounded everything. It was unreal.

Her breath began to quicken. She stood up, looking around desperately, not even noticing that she was sweating from wearing a coat in the hot desert sun –

There was nothing. Nothingness stretched out before, under, above, and behind her. A lone, square sun hung in noon position high above.

"What the bloody hell is going on!" she screamed to the sky.

"Hush, Lyra," Pantalaimon said in his little voice, his head whipping around to examine the landscape, though there really was nothing to examine. "If there's anything hostile here, you really don't want them to see you."

"Don't be silly," Lyra said, her voice filled with concern and panic. "If there's bloody anything out here at all, I _want_ them to see me. Maybe we can actually find out _where the hell we are_."

"Fat chance," Pantalaimon said flatly, standing up on his hind legs and crossing his tiny pine marten arms.

"Well, no use in standing here, is there? Let's start moving."

"Like I could stay here without you."

And the two began moving across the endless desert.

* * *

Lyra eventually took off her coat and stowed it under her armpit to prevent herself from becoming too hot. They had traveled for nearly half a day, since it was noon when she arrived and it was nearly dusk already. Funnily enough, there seemed to be several ponds of water in this desert. She had been very thirsty when she saw the first. At first, she had thought it to be an illusion and had simply kept trekking. It was only at Pantalaimon's warning did she realize that the water pond was real, and she then proceeded to drink greedily and heartily from it. As such, water was not an issue.

But the time worried her. If night was falling, where would she sleep? She suspected that sleeping in an open desert was not such a good idea, but where else would she sleep?

She was silently pondering this question, Pantalaimon by her side, when she climbed over a sand dune and saw on the other side –

A village.

It was a small village, to be sure, and it was literally in the middle of nowhere. Sand stretched out endlessly on all four sides of it, but the buzz of life went on inside it. Lyra could see many people, thankfully not made of cubes, milling around, trading, arguing, doing everything else normal people did.

Thinking perhaps that she had finally found civilization, she jogged down the hill and headed for the nearest crowd, hoping that they would be able to answer some of her questions. Perhaps they would have some spare food as well, for she was rather famished from her long walk.

Thus she made her biggest mistake of the day.

Lyra approached a gruff-looking man that was arguing with a bearded man in a white apron. When it became apparent that the man was too absorbed in his conversation to notice Lyra, Lyra tapped the man on the shoulders and asked (with no hint of meekness, too):

"Excuse me, sir? But where is this?"

The man suddenly turned to squint at her, his lopsided green eyes staring at her, sizing her up.

"Wha da ya want?" he huffed after a while.

"I was just wondering where this is," Lyra said, rather taken aback.

"Well, hear, hear!" the man motioned with his arms to gather everyone's attention. All conversations ceased as heads turned to glare at the man, each one of them gruff and rough. "This doll here ain't got no idear where she is! A _noob_!"

As he said this, the eyes that were gathered on him began to shift to Lyra, glaring her down, taunting her silently. In spite of this uncomfortable attention, she stood a bit taller and glared at the man defiantly, with contempt, refusing to feel afraid. After all, she _was _Lyra Belacqua.

"I don't know what I've done to earn your enmity, but I was merely asking where this is," she said, her voice cold and unforgiving as steel. "You needn't make such a big fuss about it."

The man threw his bald head backwards and gave a harsh, short laugh, his forked mustache twitching as a result.

"'_Enmity_'? '_Needn't_'? Well, boys and girls, looks like we've got ourselves a little _aristocrat_ here!"

The man walked forward, throwing forth his powerful shoulders, bearing down over Lyra. Instead of shrinking, Lyra stood taller and threw the man a nasty look. The man, in response, shoved Lyra hard against the wooden wall behind her. She felt her feet leave the gravel ground as the man held her up against the wall with one hand, his other hand pulled back in a fist a poised to strike.

"Well, ya'll find out, we here don't no get _pushed around_ by stupi' _aristocrats_. Ya'll find out _real_ goo'."

Then he thrust his fist forward and buried it Lyra's stomach. Lyra expected to feel her gut dissolve in pain, and braced herself, closed her eyes, screwing her face up in pain –

But it never came. She opened her eyes and saw the man before her equally confused as her. She caught the faint blaze of – the only word to describe it would be _runes_ – burning in the air, floating, glowing an eerie blue, before it faded away into oblivion.

The man turned his head, a scowl on his face that was screwed up with hatred.

"You," he gritted through his teeth, and dropped Lyra to the ground.

Lyra rubbed her sore shoulder where the man had held her in his vice grip, trying to free it of its pain. It was enough to make any girl cry. That is, if Lyra Belacqua had been the type of girl that cried.

She turned her head to look at who the man was addressing. It was a tall, sleek, skinny black creature, with a small body but slender, long limbs. A deep, furious purple pair of eyes blazed from the cube, black head. Lyra noted that this creature, too, was made of cubes.

"Leave her alone," the creature intoned. Its voice was curious – it was as if it didn't talk at all, but its voice resonated within Lyra's mind, echoed within the confines of her mind.

"I ain't gonna take no _orders_ from a damn _mob_. I don' care if ya've earned some '_spontaneous sentience_', to me, ya're still just a _mob_." With that, the man spat at the creature's feet. The creature, however, paid it no attention.

"_Leave her alone_."

The man charged at the creature, pulling a shiny, silver sword out from nowhere. He raised his sword arm and brought it down hard on the black creature –

But it was gone. All that remained in its place was a cloud of purple particles. Lyra noted that those, too, were made of cubes.

The man scowled. He straightened himself, readied his sword, and turned to face the creature, who was then behind him.

"You do realize you can't land a hit on me with that sword," the creature mused, its voice echoing eerily in her mind.

"Stupi' thing! If ya got the guts, stay still an' let me run ya through! See how tough ya are _then_!"

Jeering went up through the crowd, taunting the creature, booing it. The man stood in the midst of it all, a maniacal grin on his face, his sword in both hands before him, ready to strike…

The creature lashed out with one long arm. Yet another set of runes blazed to life, floating in mid-air right in front of the man's sword.

The man's sword was blasted out of his hand in a flash of blue light, flying behind and over him in a long, graceful arc, before finally hitting the earth with a dull thud. There was only the brief look of shock on the man's face before he was launched into the air by yet another set of shimmering blue runes accompanied by purple particles. There was an almost comical look of terror on the man's face as he hung in the air for that split second when he reached the maximum height of his flight; he then unceremoniously came crashing down.

He landed with a soft "oof". The crowd visibly winced as the man struggled to get back up. He succeeded in getting into a push-up position, but then his arms gave away and he collapsed to the ground. He did not rise again.

"Someone carry him away," the creature said in a monotone, its voice almost bored. "And leave the girl alone."

Lyra slowly stood up, shaking as the crowd parted around her, losing interest rapidly. She gave a silent look to the creature, conveying one meaning with it:

_My thanks_.

The creature's unfathomably deep purple eyes locked in with Lyra's pale blue ones. Something exchanged between them as the creature gave a minute, barely noticeable nod to Lyra. Lyra nodded back courteously. It was only then did Lyra notice with a chill down her spine that the creature did not have a mouth.

But too late.

The creature disappeared with a curious sucking sound, as if someone rapidly let loose a drain, and exploded into a shower of purple sparks, leaving Lyra alone in this crowded village.


	20. Chapter 15 - Sentience

Author's Note: So.

D'you think it'd be amusing for Aesearia to say "take me to your leader"?

Yeah. Thought so. :)

bwahahahahahahahahaha BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

* * *

**_AESEARIA_**

Then came a morning which started off as naturally as any other. Ethan had taken to staying inside his Marine suit every moment of every day, just in case Herobrine decided to strike again. Daniel, on the other hand, was keeping his armor in his "hot-bar" where he could equip it whenever he "right-clicked".

Aesearia was seriously considering the possibility of permanent insanity if she kept hanging around Terrans.

Not that she had a choice.

Ethan's armor's incessant whirring made it nearly impossible to sleep for both Daniel and Aesearia at first, but Daniel had taken to using earplugs (cube-like, as ever) instead of arguing pointlessly with a stubborn Ethan.

Aesearia?

Personally, she thought that dealing with the sounds from his armor was much, _much_ easier than dealing with the sounds that came from his mouth.

Naturally, she did not share this sentiment with any of the others.

Not that they can read her mind, of course. Only she can do that. To others, that is.

Ethan's armor whirred and whined loudly in the same fashion that it did every morning when he woke, and he climbed with quite a racket to go outside for some air. He has long since stopped trying not to wake the others.

"Wake up, ladies!" he shouted, clapping his large, armored hands together. "Rise and shine! Daniel, those laps ain't runnin' themselves!"

There was a groan from the lump of cube-y woolen blankets that was Daniel, and he proceeded to mutter some odd words.

(Aesearia had caught, so far, the words that meant "butt", "poop", "reproduce", and "female Arf". She had no idea what they were meant to be.)

Ethan had started demanding that Daniel accompanied him on his routine morning laps in order to stay "fit". Aesearia had agreed to run as well, but only because she needed _both_ psionic meditation _and_ physical training. Otherwise, she would end up like the incredibly slow High Templar who only focused on the psionic side of things. The very thought sent a shudder through her. Of course, Ethan tried once to name-call Aesearia the same way he name-called Daniel (apparently, this was a Terran way of showing affection, which was, in her opinion, better than the Zerg way of shooting spines or tearing each other apart). Aesearia had calmly lifted Ethan off his feet psionically and asked him politely whether or not he wanted a bit of _permanent_ rest.

Ethan only name-called Daniel after that.

(Not that she had _any_ idea what "maggot" was supposed to mean.)

The sun was only a square of red peeking over the skyline by the time the Terrans and the Protoss made their way out, followed by the dog. Laps were run, push-ups were done (though not by Aesearia), and finally all took a break by sitting down next to a house and drinking (in the Terrans' case)/absorbing (in the Protoss's case) a glass bottle of water.

Ethan was loudly telling some Terran joke (which Aesearia couldn't even hope to understand) regarding a "kangaroo" and a "ninja" to a good-humored Daniel when a villager poked his head outside the door and started staring at them all. They had gotten used to this type of odd behavior over the days and none paid the villager any attention, until –

"What do you primitive screwheads think you're doing, loitering on _my_ property?"

Daniel choked, sputtered some water, and turned to look incredulously at the villager, followed by Aesearia and Ethan.

"Wha - "

"I thought they were mindless!"

And a grunt from Ethan.

"I'd take care who I was calling 'mindless' if _I_ were you," the villager said darkly. "Now _get off my property, or I'm calling police!_"

There was a scrambled rush as all three made a mad dash for home, Arf whining as they did so.

There was a villager in a white robe at their house. He looked up, apparently surprised, when Aesearia busted through the door.

"Do you mind?" he asked in a very nasal voice, his brow (no plurals there) furrowed.

"Please get out," Aesearia said in her most persuasive manner. (That is, she was mind-controlling.)

Curiously enough, the villager's eyes did _not_ glaze over as Aesearia had expected, but he did reluctantly leave. After he did, Daniel took a seat, Ethan loomed in a corner, and Aesearia sat a table, staring at her hands.

"What does this mean?" Daniel demanded to no-one in particular. "They aren't supposed to be sentient! They aren't supposed to be even able to talk!"

"I'm not sure they're entirely sentient," Aesearia muttered. "If they were, that one's eyes would have glazed over. I was psionically controlling him." Then a thought occurred to her. "Wait here," she said, and rushed out the door. Naturally, the Terrans followed.

She walked up to a villager (who looked at her curiously, as if she were an alien (oh wait, she was)), reached into his mind –

And saw the coded orders.

?!

And then a thought came, foreign and unbidden.

_This thing isn't from around here_

and then

_Should I call the iron golems?_

then

_Dunno, it doesn't seem hostile…_

And then the villager spoke aloud.

"Can. You. Under. Stand. What. I'm. Saying?" He said this with much unnecessary flourishing of his arms, which were finally unfolded and waving about.

Aesearia stalked back.

* * *

"What?!" Daniel exclaimed. He threw up his arms in defeat. "That's it," he said. "I give up. Whatever evil force is at work here, we're screwed. So screwed."

"Why?" Aesearia asked, slightly bemused. She didn't see how this was so dangerous. Perhaps it was a good thing. It wouldn't be so empty around here, for one…

"_They shouldn't be able to think!_" Daniel moaned exaggeratedly. "_They're freakin' AI's!_"

"The way I see it," Ethan grunted, "is that we need to go find whoever their leader is and work out some type of agreement. I don't want one of these _iron golems_ on my tail."

"Agreed," Daniel said instantly.

"Well, I suppose I _am_ outvoted either way, so let us proceed."

Aesearia was excited about talking to the villagers. Not just for any reason, too.

Daniel had mentioned a while back about something the Earthlings had a passion for – science fiction. Apparently, it was "fashion" for the aliens to say in a monotone –

TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER


	21. Chapter 16 - Captain Turner

Author's Notes: Well, I hope that you've been looking forward to some battles, 'cause here it is! Lots and lots of action! Yeah!

New updates soon. HAS to be less than two days. In the meanwhile, I am working on subatomic particle research, so there's that.

Have fun! O shar'ra shiel!

* * *

_**CAPTAIN MAX TUNRER**_

Most of the cities of the nation of Bryton were, unlike its namesake, built upon a jungle.

Literally a jungle.

Sentry towers were posted atop giant trees around the small city. They had tried clearing the trees at first, and had even resorted to TNT before declaring the effort futile and simply building off the treetops.

As a result, a generous portion of the multi-layered city was in the trees.

Which led to a huge hazard with spiders, which tended to spawn quite a bit.

The city, in response, was pretty much fifty percent torches.

Wooden bridges (wood was, by _no_ means, a scarcity here) that looked precarious but were actually safe (due to Minecraft physics) connected the various tree sections and led to everything from bars to businesses to shops. Glass was too expensive, so most people didn't bother with windows. Over time, an unspoken code of not stealing had grown up with the populace. Torches, on the other hand, were plentiful, partly because there was so much wood, and partly because of the cavernous cave systems that ran beneath the trees; caves that had contributed to much of the wealth of Bryton and were, as a result, quite depleted of all resources.

Back in the days, the city of Houston was a very popular one, partly because the riches underground.

By now, most settlers have moved away, the lure of unlimited gold gone. The town had gone from one-time hit to minor city.

Which is _exactly_ why it was such a _brilliant_ spot for an attack. After the onslaught, Bryton would have to decide whether to swallow their pride and turn a blind eye, or to provoke the anger of a nation as powerful as the Grasslynds. Of course, Bryton was powerful enough on its own, and equally matched with the Grasslynds, but warring would leech from their vast wealth.

_So will it be prosperity, or revenge? _

Such were the thoughts of Captain Max Turner, of company Beta-C-A-2, as he carefully adjusted his armor, trying not to mess up the green camouflage that would protect him from the enemies' sight. He had addressed his soldiers regarding their position and mission a while earlier, and all was silent in the jungle. His snipers were either on the treetops or hidden in the bushes somewhere. Their arrows were meant to take out the posted sentries; after all, they aimed not to lose too many people in the upcoming battle.

The point was not to completely obliterate the place; by doing so, they will have left Bryton no choice but to declare war. They wanted Bryton to be uncertain as to what to do.

Max was adjusting and readjusting his iron helmet (his entire company was comprised of ironclads) when a promising young private approached him silently.

"All is ready," he said. "The snipers are in position. Shall I give them the go?"

Max nodded. "Make sure it's clean." The young man gave a salute and then left.

Max took a pair of binoculars from his chestplate and peered through at the treetops. The contraption was made by Grasslynder tinkerers. They had told him that it worked like any other binoculars, from before he came here. He had thought that Minecraft did not allow for such things, and was quite certain that there were no crafting recipes for it, but he did not delve deep into the matter. After all, he was not a man of inquisitive nature. He wasn't terribly adapt at the Minecraft features either; it was for this reason that he kept his binoculars on his chestplate instead of in his inventory. The pain of battle injuries had, to his experience, often made it hard to focus your mind the way you needed to in order to access your inventory.

He waited, knowing that the snipers were taking care that no arrows went astray. Every shot had to count, lest the foes become cognizant of their presence.

A shimmer flashed through the air, towards the leatherclad guard; then there was an arrow sticking out the forehead of a leatherclad corpse.

Max shifted his hands so he can see the other sentries. All of them met their ends.

He waited for the private to return.

"Phase One is complete," the private panted, once he arrived, "done aiming, ready to proceed." Max nodded at the report, turned, and yelled:

"_FIRE!_"

Three TNT cannons fired, multiple _boom_s succeeding one another, three blocks of TNT flying through the air –

_BOOM_

went the explosion as the projectiles exploded above the tree-borne town. The TNT was meant more for fright than for damage; after all, they didn't want to destroy the place.

"_READY!_" he yelled to the general archers, who shimmered into existence from the greenery backgrounds. They drew their bowstrings, waiting for the next command –

"_FIRE!_" Max screamed (it was a_ manly yell!_) after two seconds, to insure that all arrows were ready. A rain of arrows blocked what little sunlight there was to hit the earthen floor, but there was enough light to see by. Hopefully, no mobs would spawn.

_Hell, if a creeper blew up a fireteam or something…_

Max ignored the unbidden thought (creepers weren't that powerful anyway) and yelled, raising his iron sword for dramatic effect:

"_CHARGE!_"

An entire army emerged from the forest behind and swarmed to the trees of the village. Special squads equipped with ender pearls were given the command to seize control of key locations, allowing for the rest of the army to climb up the trees safely. Snipers were also issued with the order to kill any hostile archers (including skeletons).

Max was amid the sparse swarm of camouflaged ironclads, yelling war cries when a TNT flew from the treetops to explode somewhere to his right. To be sure, no one would have died, but they would have been dangerously low on health. With visible effort (to anyone paying attention), Max focused his mind and reached into the chat channel, wrote "/tell Snipers", and mentally yelled:

_Shoot the damned cannons!_

There was a hurried apology that Max barely registered as his continued charging with the rest of his army. Showers of purple sparks can be seen everywhere on the trees where Grasslynder soldiers had ender-balled.

There was an explosion and a shower of pretty red sparks where a firework had gone off, indicating that the particular area was clear for tree-climbing. Max motioned to his personal fireteam, who had been following him the entire time, and yelled over the commotion: "Follow me!"

He made his way towards the tree, ignored the piecemeal arrows darting around him, and grasped the vines to start climbing, his fireteam following. The climb was a long one, and it was difficult to dodge arrows while climbing with two hands. He took an arrow to the shoulder but didn't even feel anything, because firstly, he was wearing armor, and secondly, he was wearing _two_ layers of armor, iron over leather.

By the time he made it up, the maroon wooden floors were covered in blood, inventory drops, and real items. He estimated the climb to be about twenty-five blocks long, and it was a twenty-five blocks that he would rather not trek again. His fireteam climbed up onto the platform one by one behind him, and he turned to charge onto the bridge when one of his fireteam members, John Snow, placed on arm on his chest and raised another hand to point at a sniper, just as an arrow _twang_ed into place on the wood. Cursing, Max reached over his back and pulled out his bow. He was not the best of aims, but he was good enough to pass basic training. He was even good enough to pass Doubles training, which meant he was pretty good.

He used an arrow from the ground, pulled back, took aim, dodged another arrow, and let go, watching the arrow fly way over the sniper's head. Cursing again, Max pulled another arrow from the ground, noticing that his fireteam behind him was doing the same thing. "Fire!" he said, releasing his charged bow, watching five arrows stream towards the sniper. He dodged four, but then one lodged itself firmly into his arm. Staggering, he took aim again, only to be shot down by Myrk, who had even better Archery scores than Max.

"All clear?" Max asked his team, receiving a nod from Ervin in response. He then made his way onto the bridge, yelled over his shoulder, "Try not to fall off. It would kinda suck for you to go out this way, of all things imaginable."

Thankfully, he made it across without much incident. Jacko was stepping onto the platform when three leatherclads jumped from _somewhere_ to assault them. "I'll take the archer," one of them said (with a heavy London accent), motioning Myrk, who still had his bow out. Myrk scowled, took an arrow, and plunged it in the man's general direction –

Max turned out of instinct, his sword rising to meet the other, a metallic _clang_ ringing clearly through the area. His adversary's sword jumped back, and he was surprised to see a woman facing him. The blow was very powerful, and so must be this woman.

She raised her sword again and pressed forward in a furious dance, the dull gray of her stone sword flashing in a raging storm. It was all Max could do to parry all the blows, but even then, her sword somehow flashed down on the side of his abdomen and he gave a heavy "oof" in response. Thankfully, his armor tanked most of the damage, but even so he felt an ache where the sword had hit. However, there was now a long scratch where the sword had hit. Quickly recovering, Max raised his sword to strike blows alternating on the left and the right, hoping to strike the girl off guard –

An arrow was protruding from the girl's temples. Blood splattered everywhere, and the girl fell forward on her face. Not even pausing (that was what got you killed in combat), Max turned to face the other assailants.

A densely bearded man with striking orange hair was already lying in a pool of blood, his leather armor turned red from such an amount, but his companion was trying even all four of his fireteam. His sword, like his fellows', was made of stone, compared to their iron, but that seemed to impede him little. His sword flashed even faster than the woman's, parrying blows from left to right. Just as Max turned to join the fight, Myrk took a hit to the shoulder, the sword cleaving through iron in a metallic screech; with a scream of pain, Myrk fell to the floor, his face screwed up. The stone sword broke in two, one half lodged into Myrk's shoulder, and the warrior was taken down quickly, now that he was unarmed.

Ervin quickly bent down to take out the sword fragment, ignoring Myrk's gasps and moans of agony. As soon as he did so, he plucked from thin air a glass bottle with a sloshing liquid inside, opening the flask and jealously pouring a drop or two onto Myrk's wounds. The flesh seemed to heal unto itself before their eyes, although it did provoke a certain amount of yelling and cursing from Myrk, who was in great discomfort. In a blink of an eye, Myrk's wounds were gone, leaving only the dislocated shoulder plate on his armor.

"I'm fine," he grunted, his eyes looking somewhere else. "Push forward!"

The command team was already clearing out what remained of the first level of buildings and ready to move on to the second level when Max felt the chat channel say something to him –

_Enemy tangoes, coming from southeast. A whole lot of them. From what I can see, about half a company. Over. _

A mere four sentences shocked his soul. He was numb with disbelief at first; then the fear washed over him. To be sure, his company would be able to obliterate the enemy, but –

_"Remember, Captain Turner. Your mission is not to obliterate the enemy town. Your mission is to seize control of it. Nothing more. Nothing that will openly provoke the wrath of the Brytons."_

He was screwed.

There were times when "Aw, crap" didn't seem to cover it.

So it was with a great sense of trepidation that Max turned open his chat channel, targeted all people in his company, and wrote:

_Enemy half-company coming in from southeast. All units from treetops, begin firing at the enemy. Artillery, fire into the center of that army. Special marksmen, aim for commanders and officers. _

_And get ready to raise some hell. _


	22. Chapter 17 - Dying

Author's Notes: Sorry about the delay. Lots of maths, playing StarCraft, watching Husky, abusing linear algebra, etc.. Oh, also, hacking real life and photoshop-ing my face. Only costed me three bucks, too. Now I look like Snape!

Not really.

Under any case, hope you enjoy this chapter. A little info for ya: Lyra used to have a boyfriend from another universe (it's messed up. If you think it sounds Japanese and cheesy, read His Dark Materials. I know the title _SCREAMS_ stupid and _Twilight_, but it's not. Lots and lots of particle physics, quantum tangling, and in general, cynical awesomeness. Read the series. One little reminder, though. No offense, but the book series features Jesus dying at the end. Enoch was the antagonist, and Jesus was a fumbling old man, dying of age. Enoch took over power. I'm no Christian, but I think Christians would find the book offensive. I don't see why they would, though. But most Christians _did_ find the books offensive, a _large_ reason to why _Golden Compass_ was not such a successful movie in America. People over in Britain are much more open-minded, I feel. I don't think religion should be brought into account for whether a book series is good or not. Rant over.), and his name was Will, for those wondering.

(Roll eyes)

No, I don't know whether or not they get to reunite. In the original His Dark Materials, they get separated _not_ because "We can't be together, my _loooooove_", but because Dust fields get scrambled when they are placed in entropy fields not of where they originated. Scrambled Dust fields means scrambled humans, and scrambled humans means dead humans. Dead? Not good! Capische? Good!

I dunno, though. I might just have them reunite in this series. Or I might just have _diablos ex machima_ and have them forever alone. I dunno, does that count as _diablos ex machima_? Ah well. As you can possibly tell, the plot isn't _entirely_ thought out. But I have the rough outline.

Enjoy! A review would be much appreciated!

BTW, DaLintyMan, more background info will be up soon on why the battles take place. Remember, though. Information travels slowly in Minecraft. They don't have email. People over in the Winterlynds might think that the problem is only diamond transports, but maybe the people in Bryton are already assembling an army of indestructible Iron Men. Or Diamond Men. Or Obsidian Men. Still can't decide which sounds cooler.

Hang on.

I may have just ruined the plot for ya.

Sorry. Slipped.

_OR DID I?!_

__OMINOUS MUSIC

Anyway, big thanks to DaLintyMan for reviewing. Really appreciate it. REVIEW! MOAR REVIEWS! ARHARGHGHGHGHGRHGH!

THIS IS SPARTA!

Enjoy! :D Next chapter out... maybe 2? maybe 3? Days, i mean.

* * *

_**LYRA**_

It had been quite some time since she had picked up her dropped coat and walked away from the scene of the conflict. A bit of asking around and pretending to be tough (_not_ that she needed to pretend) told her the location of the nearest inn.

Lyra pushed open the twin wooden doors and walked into the medieval-looking inn. She peered about, taking in the rather odd surrounding. Small groups of grown men sat on high stalls (which were made of cubes), conversing over small glass bottles of what she presumed to be liquor. She slowly approached what appeared to be the main counter and asked the red-bearded man behind:

"Excuse me? I want a room."

"Four nugs a night," the man said without even looking up.

Lyra had gathered from eavesdropping on conversations that the local currency was something called a "nug". She even caught a glimpse of them once or twice. They were small, golden nuggets that would've been smaller than her palm. A curious thing, though: they, too, were made of cubes.

The only problem was that she didn't have this currency or anything that looked quite like it.

"I got no nugs," Lyra said, showing no sign of weakness in her voice, "but I'm willing to pawn something in. Would you be willing to take this silver coin?" She flipped a small, silver coin onto the table.

She had found it when she picked up her coat after the incident with the black creature. Evidently, it had fallen out of one of her coat pockets. With any luck, this little thing would suffice.

The man finally looked up. His eyes turned a comedic size of dinner plates when he laid them on the coin.

"Good gracious…" he muttered, slowly and gently picking up the coin. "It's… It's… _Real_…" He caressed it with his fingers, marveling at the smooth edges, feeling the outline of the bump on the heads side.

"Um… So this will do?" Lyra asked unsurely, rather taken aback by the man's odd behavior.

"Yes," he breathed, not taking his eyes off the coin. "Yes, ma'am." He suddenly ripped his eyes from the coin and barked at someone in a cube-made brown tunic: "Eric! Show this lady to her room, will ya?"

Eric gave a small grunt in response and walked up the stairs on the far right, motioning for Lyra to follow him.

Lyra followed.

Her room was made of dark wooden planks, complemented by cobble on the edges. To be sure, it was small. A miniscule red bed lay in the corner of the room, while a chest and a curious working table was on the other side. All were made of cubes, even the lone torch that shone above the workbench and the small piece of glass that was her window.

Eric gave Lyra a gruff nod, stared at Pantalaimon a bit, and left, shutting the wooden door behind him.

Lyra threw her jacket on the floor next to her bed. She then sat down on the bed, finally allowing the fatigue of the day to wash over her. After lying on the bed for a bit, staring up at the low ceiling, she took her alethiometer out of her satchel and prepared herself for reading.

_Where is this?_ she asked the alethiometer.

She watched as the needle swirled about, rapidly pointing to different symbols, and read:

_A land of cubes._

Then an idea came to her.

_What alternate world is this?_

The answer came: _A land of cubes._

Which confirmed her suspicions.

_How do I return to my home?_

After a while:

_A man with blank eyes. _Then something curious: _Sword._

Lyra blinked. This answer was most peculiar. But the alethiometer wasn't finished:

Apple, Hourglass, Thunderbolt, Tree.

Lyra had _no_ idea what _that_ meant.

Then something else hit her like a hammer. Shaking, she twisted the dials of her alethiometer to mirror her question:

_How can I meet my love again?_

After a while:

Apple, Hourglass, Alpha/Omega, Bread, Anchor, Apple.

Again, Lyra had no idea what that meant.

"Bloody muse, eh?" Pantalaimon commented from Lyra's shoulders.

"D'you know what time it is?"

"Not an idea," came Pantalaimon's small voice.

"Let's sleep, then."

With that, Lyra put up her alethiometer, undid her ponytail, and collapsed onto the bed.

* * *

Lyra jolted awake.

She sat up in her bed, her hair stuck to her face with sweat, her breath shallow, her body shaking. She had a horrible nightmare, but could not remember what it was. She looked out the window and saw the moonlight streaming in from the window, indicating that it was still rather late. Lyra rubbed her eyes and pressed her temples, hoping to relax herself.

"Nightmare?" Pantalaimon mumbled sleepily from the pillow.

"Bloody right," Lyra replied in a whisper, her eyes closed.

_Thump_.

Lyra heard a distinct thumping noise from outside the door.

"Did you hear that?" she asked Pantalaimon in a voice barely recognizable, suddenly tense.

"Right," Pantalaimon replied.

The thumping did not resume. Lyra thought it might have been the bad dream, but something told her that this was real.

She slowly climbed out of her bed, approaching the wooden door cautiously, taking care not to let the floor creak…

The wooden door slammed open, making Lyra jump and Pantalaimon retreat to the confines of Lyra's mess of hair. In walked the man she had encountered earlier, a nasty scowl on his face, and a dangerous-looking shimmering silver sword in his hands. His eyes moving across the room like a predator, until they finally landed on Lyra. His eyes narrowed.

"Well," he breathed. "Look who we have here."

He walked to the center of the small room, allowing more cronies, at least four, to stream in. They were all built powerfully, and gave Lyra the impression of coyotes in a cage too small.

Lyra backed into the corner, fully aware that the five men had effectively cut off all means of escape for her. She picked up her coat along the way out of instinct, hugging it close to her chest out of some primitive sense.

"Well, we'll teach _this_ princess a _lesson_," he hissed maliciously, his mustache twitching, his arms rising to bring down the sword on Lyra –

Who saw a beautiful opening.

She darted past the man, ducking under his armpit, and rushed past to the other side of the room, seemingly about to collide with the wall –

And did the last thing anyone would expect.

She jumped out the window, breaking it with her body.

(She had no way of seeing this, but the men simply stood in her room, still from shock, mouths hanging open, gaping at the hole where she had made her escape. They were, quite simply put, dumbfounded.)

She landed on a soft woolen canvas above a small shop, and rolled off the cover. She fell to the ground with a heavy "oof" and winced, though she knew she had no spare time. She stood and peered around and, after seeing that her attackers did not immediately pursue, made for the boundaries of the village. Hiding in the village was no longer an option.

She dashed past several small stands closed for the night, dodging the tray of raw fish (was it just her or were _they_ made of cubes, too?) and rolling under a table full of apples (cubes as well?). She jumped off a relatively steep cobble road and landed with a rough grunt, rolling on the ground to disperse her momentum. Quickly standing back up, she spared a quick look behind her, and saw that the attackers were hot on her trail. With a nudge from Pantalaimon, and feeling rather hopeless, she continued running.

After running past the fifth bar, she saw the sands of a large clearing beyond sparsely placed houses. She pushed herself a bit harder and ran faster than she ever had before, which only caused more panting and wheezing than before. She could hear the men behind her shuffling, cursing as they struggled to keep up with her…

Until a small ball flew over her head and landed right in front of her.

She bumped right into the materializing body of the mustached man.

"Going somewhere?" he asked with a malicious grin, hungry in nature, formed upon his face.

Lyra turned and ran in the other direction. For the second time, she ducked under the armpits of the men closing behind her and darted right past. For the second time, the men's eyes followed her with shock as she skedaddled, their bodies petrified with amaze.

"Chase her, ya fools!" she heard the man shout at his companions.

She soon wound up in the same area with shops again. She even saw the tray of fish she dodged earlier, though the table of apples were nowhere in sight. Deciding that the men must have knocked it over during their chase, she headed for a narrow alleyway which led to some ladders, hoping to gain some high ground on her attackers, a trick she learned in her years of being a youngster to be quite useful against tails, if you had ammunition…

As she ran right past an empty table. That in itself was not the remarkable thing; it was the dull gray sword that lay next to it.

Lyra paused herself, hesitating for a moment. Should she take it? It could be useful…

"Just take the bloody thing and _run_!" Pantalaimon urged Lyra, his body shaking, panting.

Lyra picked up the sword and headed towards the alleyway.

The sword was almost perfectly balanced in her hand. It was neither too light nor too heavy, but just right for her strength. She estimated it to be a little over two feet and a half in length, which was perfect for her liking. She never did like long weapons; they were too difficult to swing, especially for a child.

But she was no longer a child. It had been such a long time since she was chased down alleyways, running from unknown pursuers, handling clay balls and wooden sticks that substituted for weapons, laughing in joy as she was caught and tickled and fell to the floor, giggling, begging for mercy…

Except here, if she were caught, she wouldn't be giggling.

She climbed up the ladder, onto the small balcony that overlooked the entire open-market area.

And she saw her pursuers closing in on the ladders.

She readied her sword, preparing to swing.

The first man, a bald, young man in his twenties (whom she'd never met before), climbed up the ladders with only one hand, the other hand holding a cube-y iron sword (it just _couldn't_ be silver). He swung at Lyra with a malicious glint in his eyes, and Lyra only barely managed to deflect it with her own. Both swords were knocked back, and Lyra struggled to keep her balance. She toppled back a bit.

The first man climbed up the ladder and onto the balcony.

Several more followed him.

Well, so much for taking advantage of the ladder and high ground.

Lyra was surrounded again.

Another man charged her, bringing down his sword right on her head. She raised her sword to parry the blow instinctively, but the other men were joining in. Another sword reached for her chest, and she blocked it narrowly. A flash of silver came from nowhere and sliced open her ankle, spraying blood everywhere like a water hose. Lyra felt sick and gasped in pain. Pantalaimon clutched at her blonde curls in anxiety.

She pushed with her sword and knocked a man off balance. Taking advantage of this opening, she thrust her sword forward and felt the tip of her sword sink into the man's silver chestplate. Lyra knew that her sword probably couldn't even put a dent in his chestplate, but the blow did knock the man off the balcony. The man stumbled backwards and fell off the battleground with a scream and, later, a dull thud.

Yet another blow. She raised her sword to deflect it from her chest (all of the men were either aiming for her head or her chest; they clearly wanted her dead), feeling the resonance of the metallic screech of sword on sword deep in her bones. She grinded her sword up the man's, taking him by surprise, disarming him, casting his sword flying away in a large arc.

But another blow came at her back. A sword was thrust deep into her shoulder blades. She felt her dress grow thick with blood, and suddenly perceived that she was crying. Pantalaimon was growling between sobs.

Her sword was now smeared with blood, probably her own. She swung at a man once more, her shoulders shaking, only to have it disarmed. She instinctively clutched her hand, feeling the sharp pain of the flat of the sword.

A sword emerged from nowhere and was perched at her neck. She backed away in response, only to have it pursue her further.

"End o' the line, doll," said a gruff voice that she recognized as the mustached man.

The sword sliced open her throat.

She fell to the floor, gasping, convulsing, choking in her own blood, trying to cling to her own consciousness –

She could feel her life slipping away from her. She refused to die, or rather, tried to refuse, but found herself too tired, too drained, to do so. She slowly raised her hand, clutching her throat, trying to stay alive –

But she would die –

_I mustn't!_

There was no denying it –

_I _won't_ die! Not here!_

Pantalaimon fluttered about next to Lyra's fallen body, licking her wounds, tiring, and eventually falling next to her as well, gasping.

Lyra was dying.

She could only faintly make out the screams in the background, as if coming from someplace far away, reaching her from a distant land. They were eerily quiet, echoing deeply within the recesses of her slipping mind. She could faintly see the outline of a dark, gray-black skeleton, descending upon her.

Surely this was Death.

Death was coming to claim her.

Then she heard to clash of sword on sword.

And the breaking of glass (she did not have time to comprehend how odd this was).

And she knew no more.


End file.
